


Let Me Be Your Umbrella

by MisledGoddess



Category: Lolitics, Political RPF, Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Bakery, Baking, Character Death, Coincidences, Dead Parents, Drama in its purest form, England - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fairy Lights, Fluff, Guns, Hotel Sex, Human Experimentation, I AM SO FAR REGRETTING NOTHING, Lolitics - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Kissing, Oops, Phone Sex, Pitlochry, Plot Twists, Pregnancy, Reincarnation, Revenge, Scissoring, Scotland, Sexual Tension, Smut, Smutty smut smut smut, Spanking, Spying, Time - Freeform, Time Travel, Tomintoul, Trains, UK - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, a complex bloody narrative, aaaaaah angst, britpol, but like most of my life decisions, carlisle - Freeform, cormay, cormay flavoured sin, dart guns, domestic abuse, emphasis on bloody, jk she's just called mags, lil baby thatcher, mm needs more fluff, mmm, mummy kinks, nearly, ngl there's a hint of sturmay, soz bro, sturwood, that'll no doubt change, waterfalls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisledGoddess/pseuds/MisledGoddess
Summary: Theresa notices that the criticism against Jeremy has started to get to him.





	1. Let Me Be Your Umbrella

Rain fell drearily from the gloomy sky as Jeremy Corbyn crossed over Westminster Bridge. The rain was bitter and cold as it landed on his fragile body, seeping through his age-old green jacket and venturing onto his warm, beating chest. The frost nipped at his hands which were clutching onto the shoulder strap of his faded bag as the rain began to challenge the capability of its waterproof abilities. Jeremy couldn't complain, however; he had work to do. And with this in mind, a brisk Corbyn marched along to the Houses of Parliament, ready to once again fight for the rights of the working people.

* * *

 

Jeremy trudged down the tacky corridors to his office, abruptly opening the door. He wearily took of his coat and soggy shoes, remembering to greet his staff as he approached them.

“Let's get the fire on, shall we?” Corbyn requested, still shivering from the cold outside.

“Of course, boss” one of his members answered “I'll go get some firewood”

“Cheers, Danny”

Jeremy sat down at his desk with a warm mug of tea and a toasted hot cross bun to settle his appetite. These days he had little time to have breakfast as he now had the media to deal with on his treacherous morning commute - but who had cared enough to notice?

“Amelia”

“Jeremy”

“Whom shall I thank for this marvellous cup of tea and hot cross bun?”

“The Prime Minister, Sir”

“Oh? How kind of her!”

“She noticed that you always looked peckish at Prime Ministers' Questions, Sir. So she came 'round with them this morning”

“Well, I'll send her my regards!” Jeremy rejoiced. Who knew a conservative Prime Minister could be so compassionate to those in need? At that very moment, Danny came tumbling in with a stack of old newspapers and two logs of very old wood.

“This was all they had left, boss” Danny sighed in exhaustion “The Sun.....The Daily Mail and....2....old logs....of firewood”

“Excellent! There has never been a brighter day to set a light to the right-wing Conservative media who dare to hate me so much!” he joked, to the amusement of those sitting in the corner researching. Amelia and Danny got up and aggressively crumpled up some old newspapers, chucking them into the fireplace. Jeremy then set a-glorious-light to them. The flame may have been small, but it was burning bright. Next, they chucked on the 2 logs. For a moment, the fire seemingly disappeared, but with a bit of help from some more newspaper, the flame was beginning to roar once again. Roar like the crowds that attended his rallies. Roar like the protestors who chose to defy the government. Roar like the thunder rolling outside his window.

“Oh dear” Jeremy remarked “a storm”

“Don't you worry, boss” Danny reassured him, placing his comforting hand on Jeremy's shoulder “the storm will pass, like you always say”

“Thank you, Danny”. It was calming to know that his staff were actively listening to him, unlike the PLP.

* * *

 

There were three bold knocks at the door which shook Jeremy from his deep concentration. He looked up from his computer where he sat writing up another speech.

“Come in!”. A grey woman entered the room, a coat draped over her shoulder. She was robed in a navy blue dress and was wearing a fashionable pair of black kitten heels.

“Theresa?”

“Jeremy! I was wondering if we could talk. Outside maybe? Over coffee?”

“Of course, Prime Minister. And may I thank you for earlier too. The tea and the hot cross bun gave for a very nice start to my day”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now please, get your shoes on and do up your tie, for heavens sake” Theresa chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“Alright” he giggled. Jeremy stumbled out of his chair and slipped on his semi-dry shoes and faded jacket. And with that, they were off.

* * *

 

The unlikely couple trekked down Waterloo Road in an attempt to find a small coffee shop. As usual, it was tipping it down – and Theresa wasn't liking the affects of it.

“Jeremy, why didn't you bring an umbrella?” she shuddered.

“Umbrellas get in the way of people, don't you know?”

“Fair enough” Theresa sighed in despair. She noticed that the street was packed with people from all backgrounds and cultures and jobs. Two Asian businessmen parading past them, smiles filled with determination and ambition. A beautiful woman in a hijab rushing to the other side of the street to get to her meeting on time. An art student clumsily carrying her equipment out of an alleyway. These were the things that made London unique and special to her. London would always have a place in her heart – and so would Jeremy.

“This one?” Jeremy asked, stopping in front of the Waterloo Bar + Kitchen.

“Of course”. And the duo went in.

 

* * *

 

The atmosphere was, in itself, deliciously soothing. The smell of home made soup pranced through the air, caressing the broken souls that inhabited the room. The sound of light chatter made them feel upmost welcome and the very sight of the older couple sitting in the corner was enough to melt your heart. Yes, you read it correctly. _Older couple_.

Theresa and Jeremy sat next to the window sipping on their cups of coffee and gazing into each others eyes. On such a cold day, all you needed to cheer you up was a warm beverage to raise your temperature and a cheerful friend to lighten the mood. Nothing less. Nothing more.

“Jeremy” Theresa muttered “do you think people will notice?”

“Who knows”

“No, not that” she mumbled, grasping his hand and staring directly into his wintry blue eyes “I mean, even you haven't yet!”. There was a faint pause while Theresa took her time to divert her eyes away to the door to mask the fact that she was now heavily blushing.

“Gosh, I've turned as red as your party!” she chuckled to herself - but Jeremy didn't.

“N...n...notice?”

“I love you” she whispered, looking down at her feet, ashamed. Jeremy grasped her hand and held it tighter than she did and giggled.

“Really?” he muttered, unashamedly excited. Theresa glanced back up at him in sheer amazement at his reaction.

“Yes, Jeremy” she pleaded “Yes I do and I'm sorry it had to be this way”

“No, it doesn't have to be this way!”. He held her hand tighter.

“From the very first moment I saw you I knew that one day I'd be beside you. Please, Theresa, let this be the day”

“But your colleagues hate me and mine hate you! And the press! They'd slaughter you!”

“Who says they have to know?”

“Jeremy! Please.”

“Theresa” he stopped, gazing into her eyes “please”. Jeremy placed a gentle kiss on her cold hand, but the cold told nothing of her heart. Her heart was as big and as warm as it could ever be. It would beat out of her chest at the name of Corbyn himself. And now, he was showing her what her soul had been yearning for for all these tormenting years. Affection.

“Jeremy....”

“Theresa...”

“Let me be your umbrella to stand under when it feels like the world is against you. Let me shelter you from the pain”

* * *

 

The duo observed the flow of the River Thames from Westminster Bridge. Dusk had come and the bustling city of London had once again come to a stand still as the night drew near. The storm had passed, and now, they were safely in each others arms.

“You know, I never thought this day would come” Theresa noted, glancing over the Thames to witness the awesome sunset.

“Neither did I” he whispered gently, causing a rather damp Prime Minister to snuggle in closer. It was just them now. Him and her forever, waiting for the Sun to go to sleep. And as it did, they locked lips and wondered if their lungs would ever get used to the rush of their icy breath in the night. They wondered if their hearts would just simply melt with infatuation or explode with intense passion. They wondered if they could hide themselves in the dark so no one would find them out. And so the couple wondered and wondered and wondered some more about how great their love could be. They wondered over and over and over until, by the slip of the tongue and the patter of devoted footsteps, they slid safely through the gates of Downing Street and hid themselves safely in the night, never to be seen again.

 


	2. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After last night, Theresa was left wanting more from Jeremy. But what will they get up to next? What would happen if Theresa had to prepare for a visitor?

Theresa strutted down the corridor, head held high and hands placed firmly behind her back. Her heels clapped against the wooden floor and both her hair and coat were caught in her stride. She glanced down attentively at her brand new watch, which glistened in the artificial lighting of the House of Commons.

“1 o'clock” she repeated to herself “7 hours. I have 7 hours”. And in those 7 hours she needed to bake cakes and prep the house and prepare for her visitor. So why, oh why, was she heading over to Corbyn's office? Theresa propped herself against the door and intently listened in. Nothing. No stupid questions. No conversations. Just nothing! Perfect! She gently knocked on the age old door.

“Jeremy...” Theresa taunted “...are you going to come out to play today?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Give me a second, Prime Minister”

“Of course, honey”.

Last night she slept with Corbyn for the first time – and it was pure bliss. The way he moved inside her with incredible passion amazed her. The way he used his tongue with such skill made her heart yearn for his perpetuate comfort. The way they became one as their lips met....It was truly a night to be remembered. Jeremy slowly opened the door and invited Theresa in, his arms wrapping around her waist. As the door closed, he longingly pinned her up against it.

“Why hello, Prime Minister” he muttered seductively, meeting her lips with a sultry kiss.

“Why hello, Jeremy” mumbled the Prime Minister as she returned the favour “how are you on this remarkable day?”. Theresa gently folded her arms around Corbyn's neck and giggled, desirously meeting his lips every time he even dared to shuffle. Corbyn picked her up smoothly and propped her up against his desk. Theresa used her legs to lock herself around him and teased an extremely aroused Corbyn with her moist g-string. Jeremy tried to push into her through her clothing, rolling their backs firmly on the top of his desk.

“There is one thing I need help with, Jeremy dear” whispered Theresa who was still indulging in his irresistible lips.

“What may that be, Theresa?” he breathed softly in her ear, his warm breath catching the back of her neck, inducing Theresa into a twinging wreck of delightful quivers.

“I need to make some desserts for later, do you mind helping me?”

“Are you just trying to shift our tensions up a gear, here? Because I know for a fact we are both extremely horny right now.”

“Only if the right honourable gentleman wants to assist me in the creation of these goods”

“Of course I do, Prime Minister”. The duo giggled in unison.

“Then take me to my room...”

 

* * *

 

Jeremy stumbled into the Prime Minister's apartment, May firmly in his arms. He placed her down gently on the sofa before sauntering over to her cupboards to peer at the available ingredients.

“What does the right honourable lady have in mind?” he inquired.

“Something light, sweet and tasty. In fact, what do Scottish people like?”

“You can't generalise the Scots like that, Theresa!” Jezza laughed “Come on, who are you meeting? We're hardly going have the time to make something extravagant!”

“Scots don't need extravagant”

“You're starting to sound a bit like Farage banging on about the Barnett Formula again” he chuckled, resulting in an instant death stare from Theresa.

“Excuse me” she coughed “what did you just say?”. Jeremy knew that if he went any further, his chances of sexual pleasure would be done for.

“T-t-that we should make a cake!” he stumbled, utterly terrified of rejection “In fact, I have some of my jam downstairs!”. Jeremy gripped onto the counter as Theresa rose from her seat.

“How much?” she growled, prowling over to the kitchen playfully.

“A lot” Corbyn whimpered, obviously not catching onto what Theresa May was playing at.

“Enough for a Victoria Sponge AND Jam Tarts?”

“If you want, Prime Minister” his voice breaking as he gulped.

“I do want” Theresa said sternly, lifting her chin and fixing her gaze “and I do get....fetch!”. And so Jeremy fearfully raced downstairs and across to the House of Commons to do exactly what his mistress had told him to do...

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa plonked herself down on the sofa, a food magazine in hand. She skimmed through to find the page where a Jam Tart recipe was being advertised for some branding reason.

“Capitalism” Theresa muttered “always ruining good books”. Theresa chuckled to herself, realising that she'd obviously picked that one up from Corbyn. Theresa scowled at the eloquently detailed page which portrayed the Queen of Hearts menacingly serving some of her peasants some Jam Tarts. On some days Theresa felt like the Queen of Hearts - and today was no exception. However, today she'd felt way more irritable than usual. She woke up feeling sick to her stomach. Theresa reckoned that it was just because she woke up early, but her gut was saying something far different. But before she could ponder about what that other cause could possible be, her phone rang. Ruth Davidson. The Prime Minister promptly answered the call.

“Hello?” said Theresa.

“Hullo” said Ruth. God, when were they going to come up with better greetings?

“Ruth, what the hell do you want? I'm trying to read this reci-”

“Do you have a room I could borrow?”. There was a brief pause whilst Theresa tried to fathom what Ruth had just asked her.

“What? Borrow? A room?!”

“Yes, a room” sighed, Ruth. From the other end it sounded like she was struggling to drag something - but she thought nothing of it.

“Why do you need a room?” she inquired.

“I just need somewhere quiet to solve some...unfinished business, ye know?”

“Alright, the cabinet room is free, I do believe. Go in through the back and for the love of God, please create minimal commotion this time, eh?”

“Of course, Prime Minister”. And she hung up. What was Davidson up to? Only time would tell...

Theresa made her way over to the counter and got out her scales, and cupcake tray. She couldn't wait to show Jeremy her excellent culinary skills. She was so good with her hands! Theresa promptly preheated the oven as Jeremy hastily returned with 2 fresh jars of homemade jam. It was evident that he was out of breath from dashing so abruptly out of the Downing Street door and back again, and so he pulled out a chair and dumped his weary old body there.

“Right” sighed Theresa “you make the cake, I'll make the tarts. Deal?”

“Deal” huffed an immensely exhausted Corbyn. And so the two of them got to work.

* * *

 

 

Theresa sat (legs crossed) on the kitchen counter, attentively watching her minion whisk away at the cake mixture for the Victoria sponge. His hand work was under immense scrutiny.

“Corbyn, you're never going to please a woman if you work your hands like THAT” she scowled. His technique was stiff as a refrigerated block of butter and as inconsistent as the varying political views in the Labour party.

“Here” Theresa smirked, strutting behind him and placing one hand on the whisk and the other cheekily around his waist “I'll show you how the professionals do it”. Theresa guided his rough hand slowly and gently around the bowl, being careful not to spill any more of the mixture onto her pristine counters. She mixed as consistently as Sturgeon did when she swaggered down the cobbles of Edinburgh in her heels. Gosh, Theresa needed to start thinking about someone else for a change! Theresa lifted the whisk to check the mixture's dropping consistency.

“Perfect” she muttered “Well done”. Together, they scooped the mix into the worn cake tin and slid it into the oven, underneath Theresa's delicately made tarts. Lovely. Jeremy slowly closed the oven door and set another timer. Great. He turned around to face Theresa, their lips pressing together. Beautiful. Jeremy wrapped his arms around her hips, working his hands underneath her skirt. Bliss. Corbyn then slowly fiddled with the top of her lacy thong, ready to feel what was inside.

“Don't mind me, just putting my goods in the Downing Street oven. Not like I haven't done that before...” he mumbled to Theresa's faint amusement.

“Oh Jeremy dear, there's no need to be such a pest” she smirked. Theresa tugged at his red work tie and brought him closer to her.

“Do you seriously think you're going to get away with objectifying me, young man?”. Jeremy grinned opportunistically. Theresa promptly tore off his tie and cloaked it around her hand.

“You have no class”. Theresa then excitedly dragged him over the arm of her sofa and bent him over, arms held behind his back.

“You have no technique at all, Corbyn” Theresa remarked “was last night just beginners luck?”

“Get off me, Theresa” giggled Jeremy playfully.

“No”. She then tied his arms together very tightly with his tie and sat him on the sofa. Next, she untied his striped apron and used it as a gag.

“Now if you even make a sound, boy” she murmured sternly “I will tell Murdoch some of those dirty things you told me last night. Understood?”. Jeremy nodded.

“Then it's agreed”. And so Theresa hastily undid his belt and ripped off his jeans, revealing a rather large erection under an old pair of briefs.

“Classic” Theresa thought to herself, knowing that she'd seen those before in the early 80s on her husband. She slipped off her cardigan an flung it over the back of the sofa whilst eloquently kicking off her heels. My, was she gonna have fun today. Theresa sat down next to him and started laying delicate kisses all over his neck and she teasing his boner with her fingers. Jeremy quietly moaned, his pre-cum already attempting to seep out all over her bony fingers. Carefully, she slid down his briefs and, lo and behold, came flying out his almighty socialist boner.

“My, my, Jeremy” Theresa muttered under her breath while running her fingers around his tip “we are going to have _so_ much fun today, don't you think?”. And so Theresa then started to blow him, being careful to treat the tip with all the generosity it deserved. Her head bobbed up and down consistently, much unlike how Corbyn whisked the cake mix! He moaned deeply, prompting a tough May to stop and glare at him.

“Do you want me to tell Murdoch that you wanted the leave your goods in the Downing Street oven?”. Jeremy then shook his head prompting Theresa to compliantly get back to work.

It wasn't long before Theresa herself got rather eager to once again try herself out on Corbyn. Her throbbing core was deeply yearning for him to satisfy her. She needed him more than ever. Theresa stop sucking just as Jeremy was about to cum.

“Now, now, Corbyn” she smirked “I'm here to teach you a lesson, not let you cum first”. Jeremy sighed. He knew he couldn't do anything. Theresa had so much dirt on him at this point that he'd be in a worse off position if he were out of this union. Jeremy watched attentively on as Theresa lifted her skirt up and gradually slid off her navy thong, leaving it trailing on the floor along with her kitten heels. He could see perfectly clear how desperate she was for him as her folds and flesh were thickly coated in her vaginal juices. Oh how Corbyn craved to go down on her!

“Hush now, Jeremy” she whispered, kissing him through the gag and perching on his lap “my party comes first”. And so Theresa calmly took Corbyn's penis inside of her, letting out an arousing moan upon entering.

“Gosh, if only I were still Home secretary” she thought to herself “but then no one would be entering my territory!”. Theresa then started leaving loves bites down and around Corbyn's neck, trying to fiercely show how much she actually cares about him. Theresa remembered last night and how passionate and wholesome it actually was. They became one beneath the sheets. They cuddled for hours on end until Jeremy had to go. To protect him and make him happy was her only aim....and now, she'd fallen in love. And so in that moment of sheer bliss, Theresa arched her back, letting out a deep cry, and once again fell into the abyss of orgasm. Her world was now playing in slow motion. She loved him. She truly did. And he loved her back.

* * *

 

“Brrzz! Brrzz!” screamed the timer and the couple finished up.

“Oh, let me get that dear” she sighed, kissing him on the lips and throwing the apron gag to the floor. Theresa hurried over, pulling down her dress and scrambling for the oven gloves. She stopped the timer and hastily took the tarts and the cake out. They were baked perfect. Theresa shifted the tarts onto a plate and sprinkled them with icing sugar, placing them on the dining table. Meanwhile, Jeremy tried to take a red hot cake out of its tin with his bare hands.

“You're never gonna learn are you?” Theresa giggled, passing him her oven gloves. Together, they decanted the cake onto a tray and cut it in half.

“Shouldn't we wait for the cake to cool before we add everyth-”

“No. Let's do it now, _together_ ”. And so the duo made the foolish mistake of smothering cream and jam into the middle of a scorching cake. Well, I mean, it kind of worked? Jeremy then placed his half on top and they sieved icing sugar heavily on that as well.

"Let me go, Davidson!" a familiar, and angry, Scottish voice yelled in the background.

“Oh dear, she's here already!” Theresa panicked “and Ruth is doing something to her!”

“To who?”

“No need to panic, now Corbyn” Theresa reassured him rather ironically “I'll deal with this, you head the fuck downstairs and back to the House of Commons, dear”. Theresa kissed him on the forehead.

“And don't tell anyone about this!” she yelled. Theresa turned off the oven and hurried out of the apartment. Fleetingly, she made her way down the stairs and into the cabinet room to save her Scottish sweetheart. But little did she know there was another thing baking in _her_ kitchen...

 


	3. When Times Get Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Philip finds out about Theresa's little affair?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry about this chapter being late. Hopefully everything else will be on time. Enjoy!

Theresa was fuming. Who the fuck does Nicola think she is by ruining her credibility? She angrily clutched the seat belt and furiously buckled up. Her week kept getting worse and worse. First Brexit, then falling for Corbyn, then Ruth turning against her! Jeremy, who sat calmly beside her, glanced over, confused and mildly alarmed at her malicious gurns. What could possibly be up with the Prime Minister? Shouldn't she be happy that she'd managed to save Nicola? Jeremy gently placed his warm hand her thigh. He rubbed her leg reassuringly, calming her racing heart which was beating out of her chest.

“I'm guessing something didn't go well” he assumed.

“Yes” Theresa spat bitterly “I **hate** her”. Theresa sharply turned her head towards the passenger window with her chin up, reminiscent of a stubborn toddler throwing a tantrum over a clashing of opinions.

“What did she say?”

“What didn't she say!” she lied, once again desperate to find a valid reason to despise her.

“Was she banging on about independence again?” Jeremy chuckled, leaving Theresa silent.

“Look, Theresa. I know she might be-”

“Oh do shut up, Corbyn. No means no. What doesn't she get about it?”. At this point in time, there was no point arguing about it, and so Jeremy and Theresa awkwardly made their way back home down south.

 

* * *

 

Theresa started the timer. 5 minutes until she gets the results of her pregnancy test. Five. Whole. Fucking. Minutes. She couldn't believe that she'd even slept with Corbyn once – let alone twice! Oh what a foolish move from a naïve Prime Minister. You'd also assume that at their age, pregnancy was practical impossibility! Well...her uterus had other plans.

There were 3 knocks at the door which mildly infuriated an irritated May, and so she stormed off to answer, her eyes twitching and perilously holding back an entire sea of tears.

“Can I speak with you for a moment, Prime Minister?” asked Liz, innocently. Theresa indignantly sighed. She couldn't be mad at Liz; she was only trying to help!

“Of course” she sniffed “What's the matter?”.

 

* * *

 

 

Philip was chilling casually in the living room, carelessly skimming through the pages of the latest GQ magazine which George Osborne lent to him. What an arse! Philip never truly liked Osborne. Sure, Philip was a banker and Osborne seemingly adored him for it, but George had lost a considerable amount of support for their party with his selfish economic policies. If there _was_ a snap election today, Corbyn and other party leaders would take no time in attacking his beloved wife's party for creating a considerable amount of bad decisions, scathing divisions and economic turmoil.

Philip sat on the sofa and attentively listened to Theresa wander out of the front door with one of her colleagues, noticeably distressed. That would be okay except for the fact that Theresa was not the type to become easily perturbed. Had someone close to her died? Was the stress of being PM finally getting to her? Philip concluded that he should probably take a look at what she was previously doing so he could try and rectify the situation.

Philip negligently chucked the magazine down onto the coffee table and clumsily stumbled his way through their bedroom and into the bathroom, like the drunk man he was! Clothes and towels were profoundly scattered all over the bathroom floor. The sink was filled to the brim with used make up wipes and tap water was sparsely splattered all over the mirror. What in the name of sanity had been going on here? Suddenly, Theresa's phone started to loudly bustle and buzz. Philip leaned forward to turn it off but stopped as he noticed something very strange indeed...a white, almost flattened, cylinder. He glanced at the interface, his pulse beginning to race. First there was one line....and then, there were two.

 

* * *

 

 

“PHILIIIIIIIIIP!” Theresa screamed emphatically as she stormed back into the apartment, realising that he was no longer residing in the living room. Theresa was terrified Philip was going to find the test. That would almost certainly spell an end to the marriage that she treasured so deeply. Theresa marched through their bedroom and into the bathroom to find Philip sobbing hysterically, slumped on the wet floor like a small child. Philip propped his feeble body against the drawers and wept.

“You-you-you're p-p-p-pregnant” he stumbled in utter bewilderment “We're g-g-g-going to have....a...a..baby?!”. Theresa glanced down with great remorse at the daunting pregnancy test. Positive. He was right, and she **was** pregnant. And now, she owed him a heartfelt explanation. Philip wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up at her.

“We haven't had sex in months, Theresa” he choked “who the hell was it?”. He knew. The callous truth wobbled on the tip of her tongue and yet her mouth refused to utter the words for the very moment she did, was the beginning of a lifetime of loneliness and eternal misery. Oh how selfish she had been.

“I **will** find whoever did this to you... _and_ _I will kill them_ ”

“NO!” she shrieked “Philip, don't get yourself in trouble! This is my own _silly_ fault!”

“NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” he bellowed, reaching out for her “Just, please, Theresa...who is it? Which _imbecile_ has dared to **lay their dirty fingers** on you, my precious?”

“Jeremy Corbyn”

 

* * *

 

 

Fury bolted through his system and surged deep into his bones. Acrimony caused his eyes to fiercely tick, accentuating the dark rings which circled them. Which  _fool_ had dared to do this to him? **No**. Which _thing?_

“So, what brings you to Islington, Sir?” questioned the taxi driver, beaming with joy.

“Unfinished business” Philip snapped, causing the driver flinch for a second. He was definitely regretting trying to make small talk with the most furious man in Britain!

The car eventually pulled up on the curb near Corbyn's constituency office.

“That would be a tenner, Sir” the driver dubiously muttered, holding out his hand. Philip slammed a ten pound note violently into the palm of his hand, continuing for a few seconds to dig in note further in. Philip then intensely sped out of the vehicle and made his way over to Corbyn's office. He stopped outside, pausing to ominously glare in through the window. Corbyn looked up, meeting eyes with the man. Corbyn. Was. Terrified. Philip wickedly smirked at him, the wind blowing through his silver locks. Jeremy sat still as the man hastily opened the door. Corbyn gulped. Philip slammed the door behind him, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Y-yes?”

“Why _ **the fuck**_ have you impregnated _**my**_ wife?”

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa sat at her bedside solemnly, helplessly wondering what Philip was going to do to Jeremy. She couldn't help but fret over his safety in a way she'd never done before, _almost like Jeremy was someone special_. Theresa wanted to hold him close and run her bony fingers meticulously through his silver locks, taking time to caress the layers of skull which enclosed his troubled mind away from the judgements of the universe – something she feared was now near impossible. Oh how she wished that the father of her baby would return.

The door opened. A set of familiar footsteps stumbled into the apartment...and then stopped. There was silence. Theresa held her breath, desperately hoping that Philip wouldn't hurt anyone anymore. She crossed her fingers tightly, ready to embrace the sweet release of death. Oh how she longed for the end of this incessant torture. Another set of footsteps wondered in and carefully followed the other footsteps into the living room. And then...her door opened. The figure pulled down his coat hood and smiled.

“Come on in, dear. Let's sort this out”.

 

* * *

 

I've always promised her that I would always be by her side when times got dark. I am a man of principle nevertheless, and I would never, not even for a second, let _her_ down! She's the light of my life, for heavens sake! My world! My rock! My bloody anchor! Her smiles feel like heaven and her body puts me in a trance. But for those feelings to be shared with another man...damn, that's tough. But if it keeps her forever next to me, and 'our' child eternally safe, then I am willing to sacrifice all I have - all I **am** \- just to be there to wake up to her every morning. I will keep our secret safe in the dark, and **no one - absolutely no one -** shall discover the true identity of  _Margaret Naomi May_...

“...until the clock strikes twelve... _and now we're all back to square one again_...”

 


	4. We Can Shelter Each Other From The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theresa is both the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and 9 months pregnant. How will her final days play out?

The Prime Minister trudged skilfully into the cabinet room, miscellaneous folders and reports crumbling in her hands. On days like these, she couldn't even begin to conceive the fact that she was in fact Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. On days like these, she couldn't begin to believe she'd even conceived! And so she sat down at the table for the millionth time and organised the papers in front of her, trying to make sense of the day ahead.

Liz and Justine playfully barged into the room, gifts and presents in hand.

“Prime Minister!” Liz giggled, gleefully “BABY SHOWER!!”. Justine then immediately started throwing whole boxes of confetti over the bewildered Prime Minister (who really didn't get her beauty sleep last night)! Theresa just sat there are stared into the distance in awe, slowly watching the confetti fall down in front of her as she drifted off to sleep...

“Oh dear” Justine remarked “somebody's a bit tired!”. She jerked herself awake, remembering the meeting.

“Oh, shut it, Justine” the Prime Minister stammered “Come on, we have work to do”.

 

* * *

 

 

“I'm so proud of you, Theresa” Andrea Leadsom told her for the twenty-eighth time in the last 24 hours “I never thought you and Philip would actually be able to do it!”.

“Theresa” asked Boris “When is the, er, um, baby due? O-o-o-only I-I'd need to clear m-my diary for when I need to step in to be the, uh, Prime Minister”

“You're not becoming Prime Minister anytime soon, Boris” sneered Theresa to the amusement of the rest of the cabinet.

“But I shall be the greatest Prime Minister, with swings and trampolines lining London and-and-and bungee jumps from Big Ben”

“And I can't wait” assured Theresa, placing a hand on his shoulder “But now I must be off, only that my husband might be doing atrocities upstairs and I'm not about to become divorced”. Theresa handed her cup of tea over to Liz and thanked her.

“Have fun, Theresa” Liz waved “And stay safe!”

 

* * *

 

 

A heavily pregnant Theresa plodded back into her apartment. She threw her bag down onto the floor and placed her work on the side and hiked into the living room, wearily pulling herself through the door frame. Philip and Jeremy got up from the sofa and assisted her, carefully placing her tired body onto the couch and blanketing her in a warm crotchet.

“How was work, dear?” questioned Philip, who was always looking over his darling wife.

“It was fine, Philip” she chuckled “I got showered in confetti!”. The three of them lightly chuckled.

“Oh and also, Liz and Justine are dropping off some gifts from their mini baby shower in the cabinet room so be prepared for _that_! Anyway, what were you two doing?”

“We were- um” stumbled Philip. Theresa analytically glanced at the state of the living room. It was absolutely spotless – unlike how she'd left it! She glanced over her shoulder to see that some jam tarts had been carefully laid out on a cooling rack.

“Ooh, goodie!” exclaimed Theresa, who tried her best to get up from the sofa, but it was no use. She was undoubtedly pregnant and physical movement was just not a thing she was able to do! Jeremy noticed her aggravation and swiftly got up to put some tarts onto a plate; Philip crouched over Theresa's stomach and began to warmly caress it. Oh what a beautiful sight! Jeremy waddled back over to Theresa and offered her the plate.

“To our goddess, madame Prime Minister”. Theresa graciously took the plate from his hands and snickered.

“To our goddess, indeed” she replied, rolling her eyes. The trio then rested on the couch for the rest of the day, until eventually, they all fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Nicola sat anxiously on the deep blue sofa of 10 Downing Street's terracotta room (or green room as Margaret Thatcher liked to call it). She couldn't half believe that the Prime Minister had dumped her on the roadside 9 months ago, and now here she was again, in her presence and expected not to be rude or, in some way, impolite! How dare she make a fool out of her! No one makes a fool out of her!

Nicola crossed her legs and leant up against the arm of the couch, head in palm. She slid her leather folder onto the seat beside her and sighed. What in the world was she going to do? How was she going to react to Theresa acting like nothing had happened? It would be unbearable. The doors then opened and her heavily pregnant ex plodded in. Nicola politely stood up to shake her hand.

“Morning, Prime Minister” she beamed, sniffing back the frustrated tears.

“Good morning, Nicola” Theresa replied, slowly lifting herself down onto the opposite sofa “In good health, I presume?”

“Aye” she whispered. Theresa beckoned to one of her aides, telling them to bring in some tea and biscuits. Meanwhile, Nicola unzipped her folder and reached in for some documents. Today, they were discussing the state of the Scottish budget. Well, at least, they are supposed to.

“So” smiled Nicola “the Scottish Government have stated very clearly that we would like to benefit a bit more from the latest economic growth through the means of increased funding”. Theresa listened on intently.

“It's for things like _stimulating_ the economy after the _shenanigans_ of Brexit, for investing in renewable energy sources in Scotland which'll benefit the UK's balance of payments overall and for investing in schemes like the baby box which are designed to lower the child mortality rates and increase the standards of living, and therefore life expectancies for every child the width and breadth of Scotland”

“Mhm..”. But Theresa was in a daze. Nicola's beautiful voice and deeply alluring lips had once again entranced her. But oh how she wished to indulge in her deep brown eyes. The way Nicola looked at her gave her goose bumps. The way her hair shifted with every motion captivated her. The way she dressed aroused her deeply. Though it may not be anything revealing, Nicola's red dresses always excited the Prime Minister. Maybe it was a mistake to leave her after all!

“Theresa?” asked a concerned Nicola, snapping her out of her daze.

“Oh yes! Sorry...” she laughed, flustered. And so her cheeks began to once again turn red. Red as her blood. The blood which flowed around her body to a pulse. A pulse which sped with her every movement, her every heartbeat. To her every word and to her every breath which now gets harder and harder and faster and faster until you lose your sense of self control and so you spill all your emotions, all your feelings, all your aspirations and desires out into the open air and so you eventually, released from the chains of your common sense....meet at halfway. On her lips. Her soft and desirable lips. And Nicola just couldn't resist.

The duo tangoed into Theresa's apartment, both just a mess of lips and limbs. Theresa threw their folders down onto the floor as they both slid out of their heels and into each others arms. As they entered the bedroom, they slid their overcoats off, and then their jewellery and their dresses. Nicola then placed Theresa down gently onto her bed and playfully straddled her hips, desire filling her mischievous eyes.

“So, Prime Minister” she muttered seductively into her ear “What game would you like to play today?”. Theresa giggled.

“Well, I don't suppose you know how to please a lady better than a man, do you?”

“Of course I do, Prime Minister”

“Then hit me with your best shot”

“My best shot would only hurt the baby” Nicola told her, kissing and rubbing her enlarged abdomen “I wouldn't want to do that”

“No, we wouldn't”

“Then let's go gentle, for now” she chuckled “we'll leave the rest until after the pregnancy. Besides, I'd be such a better parent than Philip”

“Yeah? You reckon?”

“Absolutely. Or that Corbyn bloke you're forever bringing in here”. Theresa froze.

“H-h-how did you..”

“Angus has been keeping a beady eye on you two” she explained “we know _everything_ ”. Theresa's eyes widened.

“But don't worry” Nicola continued, making her way down to Theresa's moist knickers “I won't tell anyone if you let me stay. We wouldn't want your wee lass coming to any harm at the hands of two greedy men, would we?”

“No...”. Theresa's words trailed off into the distance as she relaxed herself against the headboard. Nicola slowly slid Theresa's black, lacy knickers down her smooth thighs and threw them at the door. She then took a deep breath as Nicola's tongue approached her pulsating clitoris, her gentle lips already latching themselves around it. They both let out deep and passionate moans as Nicola began to play with her. Her delicate tongue swished and circled, leaving a rather sensitive Theresa breathlessly clutching onto the corners of the headboard. Nicola slowly slipped two lubricated fingers into her tight vagina and began rubbing her g-spot, triggering more moans from Theresa's side. Her motions continued and got faster and faster and deeper and deeper and harder and harder until Theresa threw her weary head back against the headboard and let out a loud, erotic moan as Nicola once again tipped her body into orgasm. Oh what a sight to be seen!

Theresa's phone buzzed. It was Philip.

 

_Coming home in 10 minutes. Got some surprises for you xx_

 

Shit. He was coming home and Nicola was already demanding more from her. More and more and more. Oh what a dirty little bitch she was – and she couldn't stand it.

“Get your slutty arse out of here, Sturgeon”

“Why?” she erotically mumbled, seductively biting at the nail of her left index finger “Don't you want to keep this union together?”. Theresa sighed.

“Look, Nicola, I can't do this”. Concerned, Nicola crawled up bedside her and glanced at her phone.

“Is this really over Philip?”

“Get out”

“What about the budget?”

“I SAID GET OUT NOW, YOU FILTHY WHORE!!”. Frightened and vulnerable, Nicola grabbed her clothes, frantically dressed herself and then made her way out of the door. Theresa couldn't half believe what she'd just done.

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa, Philip and Jeremy laid sprawled across their mattress, entwined with each other and the bed sheets. The clock read 10.40pm and Theresa awoke for the 6th time tonight from her contractions. They were getting closer and closer and more unbelievably unbearable by the hour. She sat up in agony.

“Contractions again?” quizzed a tired Philip. Theresa nodded, letting out a sigh. Her waters had already broken, it was just time to play the waiting game.

10.50pm. Another contraction. Theresa yelped as her abdomen once again struck her down with intense pain.

“Philiiiiiiiip” she whined “Pleeease. I can't take this much longer”. Theresa began to sob to herself. Jeremy glanced at the clock.

“10 minutes between the last. Yeah, let's get her to the hospital”

“You sure?” asked Philip, who really couldn't be arsed to become a step-father at this moment in time.

“Don't make me run off with Jeremy, Philip” Theresa sternly remarked.

“Fine”.

 

* * *

 

 

“One last push!” exclaimed the nurse, who was as excited about the birth as Jeremy but as exhausted and fatigued and over worked as Philip “COME ON! YOU CAN DO IT, THERESA!”.

The clock struck twelve as the nurse pulled out the crying baby from Theresa, wrapping her in a blanket and handing her over to the doctor to be checked up.

“It's a girl!” she chuckled. Theresa and Jeremy looked at each other and giggled; Philip fell asleep with his head in his palm. Everyone in that room was physically and mentally exhausted!

“All clear” muttered the doctor as he handed the child over to Theresa. Theresa joyously wept as she held her baby for the first time. The baby stopped crying and gazed into Theresa's withered eyes with her own vibrant ones. Vibrant green. The infant then began to laugh and smile as Theresa brought her closer to her worn down body. What a day to be alive!

Tired and already done with the world, Philip filled out the birth certificate, putting down his and Theresa's name instead of Jeremy's to avoid controversy.

 

 _This is to certify that Margaret Naomi May weighing 6lbs 4oz was born on the day of Monday 7_ _th_ _August to Philip John May and Theresa Mary May in the year of 2017._

 

...well, that's what _they_ think anyway...

 

 

 


	5. To Harbour Our Hopes and Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how does Margaret grow up with 3 parents? What surprises are in store for her?

**Day 1**

 

**7 th August 2035**

 

**Introduction**

 

Hey! I'm Margaret Naomi May and I was born 18 years ago today. And yes, I live in gloomy old London. And yes, it is boring! So before I went off to university, my mum gave me this diary to help me keep track of myself and make sure I kept track of all the fun I had. It is really pretty and I am more than excited to use it. So, where shall I begin?

18 years ago today I fell into my mothers arms in Great Ormond Street Hospital. Apparently I started giggling as soon as I got out...which is..strange for a baby. My mum (or should I say the Prime Minister of the UK) then raised me with my dad in 10 Downing Street (what a subtle brag, Margaret). They always invite the leader of the opposition over every weekend for tea so I see him very often. He must be a close friend of theirs or something. Or maybe he was coaching them on raising me?? God knows...

We were always very close, me and Jeremy. He'd always call me his 'wee hot cross bun' in his shit impersonation of a Scottish accent (which I can do miles better than him, just saying) and he'd always bring me over to his allotments to teach me about gardening **n stuff**. We'd always grow different fruits and vegetables at different times of the year, and we'd cycle back home with them and give them to mum, who always made the best dinner from them! I'd like to say that her cooking was divine but I really don't want to sound posh right now, considering that I'm about to move to Scotland and I don't want to be crucified or mistaked for a Tory. Oh yeah! Jeremy also taught me how to ride a bike! He bought me this little red one when I was 8 and we'd go out every Sunday and cycle down National Trust trails with Polaroids and we'd take lots of photos of the landscapes. They never failed to impress me!

I've always preferred to be one with nature as opposed to with other people. I mean, I've never been quite the one for having friends – It just doesn't come naturally to me! I've always felt a world safer observing people rather than talking to them. And it has always intrigued me how the human mind works, how the cogs spin and why it chooses to function so in a certain way. Maybe that's why I'm doing a Psychology and Sociology degree at Edinburgh! Who knows! I want to be a psychologist when I grow up (and honestly on the inside, I've never really aged).

I've forever been told that I am a very high achiever when it comes to my school grades. I mean, I did get **A LOT** of 9s on my GCSEs and A levels....You know, I'm starting to think that might've been a reason I have never really had a lot of friends!

But yeah, Corbyn and I did make a lot of memories together, however there's one that always sticks in my mind. When I was 7, my mum was having one of her biannual meetings with the First Minister of Scotland and she was introducing me to her. Nicola was really nice and funny and compassionate (but I did hug her tighter than I probably should have) but when mum went away to check on the coffee, she turned to me, concerned and asked me to sit next to her. She ran her fingers through my hair and looked deeply into my eyes and asked...

_“God, what has your mother done to you?”_

...and continued watching my eyes spiral as they usually do. She looked so shocked and intrigued by me at the same time. I don't know if my eyes scared her or not. They're vibrant green and sometimes glow when you look at me in the dark. They spiral like galaxy - something that has always puzzled my doctor! My genetics are weird. **Very** weird. But there was a sadness deep in _her_ eyes which I'll never learn to forget. It was almost like she knew me and she knew what was going to happen next....

When I was 15, I went to Canada on a state visit with mum and I actually met THE HOTTEST GUY I HAVE **EVER** SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. And I know what you're thinking and it's not Justin Trudeau (even though he's a solid 10), it was his son, Hadrien. The way his hair flowed in the wind was just incredible. The way he moved and his fiiine af abs had always captivated me in such a way I have never felt before. His voice and sheer presence made my heart melt like it was chocolate on the surface of the Sun! The butterflies in my stomach have never flown wilder before. I can't wait to go again!

However, my mother did find out about this and was pretty annoyed. She said that she didn't want me to have any relations overseas and that setting my heart out on it would only cause it to break. And then, as the stroppy teenager I was, I stormed into her bedroom and cried. I continued crying for a good 40 minutes over my bae, and then I saw a dress in the corner of my eye hanging over the mirror. It was a long, straight, electric blue dress and it looked like heaven from the eyes of my 15 year old self. I tried it on and stared at myself in front of the mirror. It was beautiful. _**No**_. _I_ _was beautiful_. Mum looked at me from the other side of the door frame. She seemed so proud of me, almost like she wanted to live in this moment forever. Again and again. On repeat for the rest of time. But there was a great sadness in her eyes. A kind of sadness that could not have been mistaken for one of remorse - and it stung like a flesh wound...

So now, here I am! Packing my bags and headed for Scotland! I honestly can't wait for my own independence! I'll finally be free from the murky clutches of London! I cannot wait for what comes next!

 

 

 

 

 

_.....But a strange set of dark eyes were always watching, patiently waiting for their time to strike......_

 


	6. To Anchor Ourselves Through Times Of Great Hardships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaret isn't picking up any of Theresa's calls. What happens when Nicola is tasked with trying to save her from the madness which is her home?

 

The Sun's light beamed through the curtains, stippling onto Theresa, Jeremy and Philip's naked bodies. They were ever so beautifully entwined with each other in the sheets. They were the direct definition of true love.

The sunlight marched through Theresa's wrinkled eyes. She couldn't help but wonder where her time had gone. One day, she was a school girl, the next she was in a polyamorous relationship and had given birth to somebody else's child.

“Speaking of which” Theresa thought “Where the hell _is_ Margaret?”. She knew they she'd gone off to uni in Edinburgh and that she got herself a boyfriend who looked as young as her but was considerably (*cough* 39 years *splutter ***** ) older than her. Theresa badly hoped that _he_ wasn't the reason she hadn't called in 3 months. A very long 3 months they were indeed.

Theresa rolled over and decided to phone Nicola to ask her to check up on her. Theresa hoped to hell that Nicola:

 

1\. hadn't changed her number 

or

2\. wouldn't use her daughter to blackmail her.

 

“Don't be silly” Theresa's subconscious told her “Nicola's a woman of morals and principle. She wouldn't dream of doing such a thing!”. Theresa picked up the phone, narrowly avoiding elbowing Philip, and dialled her ex's number from her phonebook.

“Hello?” a tired, Scottish voice whispered down the line.

“Nicola. Sorry to disturb you but can you check on the whereabouts of my daughter? It's just I'm worried sick about her and she'd got involved with some boy and-”

“It's fine, Theresa” Nicola assured her “I'll hunt her down and bring her tae yoo”

“Thank you”

“My pleasure”.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What _**the fuck**_ did you just say to me, **bitch**?” he demanded, tightening his clammy fists. Sweat raced down his forehead as he began to turn a bright shade of red; you could almost hear the imaginary kettle whistle screeching from his ears!

Margaret took a few steps back, mildly intimidated and close to tears.

“N-n-nothing” she stammered, furiously shaking her head, dislodging a few tears from her eye sockets “I promise. I said nothing”. Margaret found herself against the wall. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Her palms were face down.

“M-Mars...please...”

“Why can't you take no for an answer, _**little girl**_?” Mars spat, furiously twitching “Eh?”. Frustrated, he forcefully slammed her fragile body against the wall, the only support being his hand which was firmly gripped around her throat.

“WELL?” he repeated, much louder this time “WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?”. The silence reigned supreme. Aggrieved, he hurled Margaret against the solid oak floor. Marshall then immediately crouched over her, a sadistic grin lining his face, and tugged her hair like a broken dolly. Tears streaked down her face, blending with her smothered makeup.

“There's no place to run now, _ **little girl**_ ”

“N-n-no...”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Nicola sifted through the shelves of books in the book shop. The Edinburgh book festival was always a great time to find superb book recommendations, _especially_ in the crime genre – and her basket was filling up. In her peripheral vision, Nicola could see solitude woman, gazing at the romance genre with beady eyes. At a second glance, she recognised the woman to be Margaret May and decided to join her.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, placing her arm around Margaret's lower back. She nodded solemnly, refusing to speak. Her concealer was applied heavily, especially on her left cheek and eye. Nicola grew increasingly concerned over the welfare of her ex's child.

She shifted her gaze to the fine selection of books in that genre, her hand still around Margaret's waist. Carefully, she pulled out one which caught her eye and read the blurb whilst Margaret pulled herself in closer to Nicola's chest, resting her disoriented head on her shoulder. She'd been beaten to a pulp. Nicola promptly put the book in her over-flowing basket, offering to purchase it for her. Margaret tried to politely decline, but Nicola insisted.

“Are you sure you're okay? You certainly don't look it”

“I'm fine” Margaret sighed “just a bad day”

“Is that why you're drowning in concealer?”. Margaret's eyes widened and a single tear came racing down her cheek. Nicola put down her basket and brought Margaret closer to her, running her bony fingers through her coarse hair.

“Can I have your number?” asked Nicola, gently placing a kiss on her forehead “Just so I can check up on you. I just want to make sure you're okay”. Margaret politely obeyed. She scribbled it down on a piece of paper and handed it over.

“Come on” said Nicola, reassuringly massaging Margaret's hands “I'm here for you”.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Nicola handed Margaret her book as they both left the shop.

“Thank you” she sniffled “It means a lot”

“I bet it does” she beamed as she ruffled Margaret's hair “Now tell me, what's going on?”. She sighed.

“My boyfriend, Marshall, he got a bit...angry at me this morning”

“Marshall?” questioned Nicola “What _ **the hell**_ did he do to you?”. The prescience in Nicola's eyes was an unstoppable force. It grew larger than life itself. She knew that name and she hated it. She couldn't bear to have to face _another_ tragedy at the hands of Mars. Margaret wiped away the puddle of tears welling in her eyes as Nicola ushered them both over to a nearby bench. She put the books at her feet and brought Margaret closer to her chest.

“Oh Maggie...” she sighed “Can I call you that?”. Margaret nodded.

“You need to tell me what's going on so that we can put an end to it”

“It was just one time, Nicola” she sobbed “Just once...not again”

“Maggie” said Nicola, placing her hands on the side of her face “People like this never stop”

“But...”

“No. No ifs. No buts...” Nicola sighed, dark memories pooling into her sub-conscience “Look, I'm not letting you go home to him if he's just gonnae hit you”

“No he's not” she affirmed, rapidly shaking her head “he's not like that”

“Heh...” chuckled Nicola “Denial, the first stage of grief”

“NO!” she cried, deeply frustrated. Margaret pushed herself out of Nicola's loving embrace and ran off back home.

 

* * *

 

 

Nicola intently followed her, hellbent on not giving in. The truth is, Nicola really cared about Margaret, whether she liked it or not. She hesitated to call Theresa in fear that she'd just make it worse. She didn't want to call the police in fear that Maggie would hold a grudge against her. Nicola didn't particularly want to take justice into her own hands, but sometimes, you've got to do what you've gotta do.

To Nicola, Maggie looked beautiful in the distance. The way her curls bounced on her shoulders made her heart sink in her chest. The way her dynamic eyes swirled and glowed even pure daylight made her mind wander and dream of what was to come. The way she swaggered down the pavement, her curved yet small hips moving side to side, made her heart throb for her attention. Her desire. Right now, all Nicola wanted was _her_.

 

* * *

 

 

Margaret stumbled into her house to find Marshall kneeling on the floor, begging for her forgiveness. Maggie couldn't decline; she wanted an apology as badly as the next person. Mags leaned against the wall as the strong man she had grown to know was cowering at her feet. Her heart stung and yearned to be taken away from his clutches, but it was all too late. Her sensitive mind had burned all traces of the red flags, and now, to Maggie, everything was back to normal.

“I'm sorry, love” he sobbed and whined, powerless to say the least “I missed you, baby”

“...missed you too” she whimpered, lying through her teeth. Marshall curled up against her, his sobs slowing.

“Where did you go?” he inquired, prying a book out of her hands and reading the title “and who with?”

“The book festival” she sniffed “by myself”

“Come on, Mags. I've known you a while now. We both know that you're lying”

“No, I'm not” Maggie assured him.

“I don't believe that for a second”. There was a pause for a moment, as Margaret gave in.

“....I love you”

“You _love_ me?” he snickered, his paranoia aggravating him “ _ **Love**_ **me?** ”

“Yes”

“No. If you loved me you would've stayed here at home, by my side! Not wander off with some random bloke. And by the way, who was this random bloke? By the smells of it he was rather gay, don't you think?”

“It wasn't a guy, Mars”

“It wasn't? Are you trying to tell me you're a fucking dyke?”

“MARS!”

“MAGS!”

“WE DID NOT SHAG EACH OTHER! SHE WAS COMFORTING ME!”

“ **SO YOU TOLD HER? EH?** ”

“ **YES. YES I FUCKING DID. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?** ” Maggie yelled, tears streaming down her face. In that pause, Margaret instantly felt deep regret. Her stomach sank as Marshall's fury radiated. He was going to hit her again.

“ **This is the last straw, bitch** ”. And so he snapped. Marshall vigorously smacked the side of Margaret's face with his fist. And again. And again. And again. Margaret cowered in pain, but there was no time for a break.

Marshall trailed her fragile body across the floor, punching the other side of her face again as she began to scream in absolute pain. Maggie latched her legs to the door frame in a desperate attempt to break free, but it was no use. Margaret Naomi May was surely going to die.

Marshall threw Maggie at the wall, aiming her so that she'd fall helplessly onto their bed. He fiercely ripped off his top and unbuckled his belt and threw it at Margaret, causing her to quiver in agony. Fearfully, Maggie sprinted for the door but was stopped and pinned down again by Marshall. Ignoring her nightmarish screams, he violently ripped off her spotty black dress and lobbed it at the ground. Without hesitation he heaved off his briefs, pushed her white knickers to one side and-

BANG. Nicola hit him over the back of the head with the force of a thousand neutron stars. He fell to the ground in a daze, his naked body once brimming with adrenaline, now weak and almost lifeless on the floor.

“Don't you dare come near her again, Marshall. Or you'll have _me_ to deal with”. Waking from his daze, Marshall snickered.

“You stupid little girl. You don't even know what you've done”. Marshall tried to tackle Nicola to the floor but instead she calmly whipped out a can of pepper spray and showered his bloodshot eyes with it whilst pinning him to the carpet with her six inch heels. Marshall screamed in intense pain.

“Who's the wee girl now?” mocked Nicola, arrogantly smirking. Humiliated, Mars scrambled to get his clothes and made a dash for the door. Meanwhile, Nicola picked up Margaret's ripped dress from the carpet and inspected it.

“Bother”. She threw it to the ground and popped 'round the side of the door to reach for something in her bag. Nicola came back in with a New Look bag and a red, tartan bra and a matching pair of knickers.

“Here” she offered, smiling “I thought I'd get something to treat you”. Overwhelmed but desperate to get her clothes back on, Maggie reached for the bra and knickers and scrambled to get them on. They fitted perfectly. Nicola lifted an eyebrow.

“Where did you get these?” inquired Maggie, oddly satisfied by their perfect fit.

“Someone gifted me them. They're my old ones...” she trailed off, biting her lip, slightly flustered. Maggie giggled.

“That's okay”.

Nicola handed her the New Look bag, and Maggie pulled out a navy, laced skater dress. She slipped into it perfectly and stood up to glance at herself in the mirror.

“Perfect...” Nicola whispered in her head, or at least, she thought she did. Maggie's cheeks turned pink, thrilled by the realisation that Nicola really did like her. Like, _really_ liked her. Margaret always wanted to explore her sexuality, but was never given the chance to.

Nicola gently wrapped her arms around Maggie's waist and kissed her cheek.

“You are...breath-taking” she muttered in her ear. They both giggled.

“Hey, don't tell anyone about this okay? I just don't want your mother to find out I'm trying to hit on you”. Maggie turned to return the kiss.

“It's okay, Nicola” she giggled “The secret's safe with me”

“Good” Nicola replied “Now, do you want to go out? Only, it wouldn't be a very nice thing for me to keep you here, in the place where you've been abused god knows how many times”

“Thank you....”

 

* * *

 

 

Marshall was seething with rage and pain. He sprinted to a public bathroom, his clothes only half on, and dramatically tried to irrigate his eyes. They burned like a motherfucker. Still in deep anguish, Mars buckled his belt and dashed to the nearest shop, which turned out to be where Margaret worked. He slammed open the door and then immediately bolted for the staff door. He was on the hunt for her boss. And there he was, alone in his office looking at graphs and spreadsheets. Mars smashed his way in, denting the wall as the door crashed open, and threw himself at her boss's desk. Mars began brutally beating him and kicking him over and over again. Blood poured from his shattered skull, but there was no going back now.

“ **I BET IT WAS YOU WHO SHE SLEPT WITH, WASN'T IT?** ”

“I don't know what you're talking abou-”. Mars slammed his fist into his face again, causing him to spit rivers of blood all over the carpet.

“ **MARGARET SLEPT WITH YOU, DIDN'T SHE?** ”

“No, she didn't”

“ **YOU LIAR!** ” he exclaimed, crushing his head with his steel, toe-capped boots “ **HOW DARE YOU!** ”

“OKAY! OKAY!” her boss screeched, his face heavily contorted and disfigured “I'll fire her”

“...and you'll stop sleeping with her, won't you?”

“I've never had sexual relations with Ma-”

“You liar” spat Marshall “This isn't over”. Marshall marched out of the office, his shirt splattered with blood stains. He had finally got his revenge.

 

* * *

 

 

That evening, Nicola and Maggie headed down George Street. Together, they ventured into every shop they possibly could on one of Nicola's extravagant shopping sprees. Hollister, Fat Face, Jo Malone, Costa Coffee, you name it!

“Oh my gosh, Maggie” Nicola sighed, pinning her up against the wall of the Hollister changing room, pecking at her desirous lips “You are so beautiful”. The duo giggled in between breaths as they passionately kissed, running their hands down and all over each other's bodies.

“Save it for later, honey” Maggie exhaled, breath-taken. Nicola whined and began sucking at her neck in an attempt to leave a love bite. They craved for each other dearly, but Maggie had cunningly decided to wait so she could watch their sexual tension grow. Maggie was curious about how Nicola's ever-growing desire could change her behaviour, and build up to something more spectacular.

The duo eventually settled down to dinner at an Italian restaurant. All night they fed each other pizza, pasta and desserts – heck, they even re-enacted that Lady and the Tramp scene! At the end of the dinner, Maggie received a phone call from her boss.

“I'll just take this in the loos, sweetheart”

“Of course, hen” replied Nicola, planting a kiss on her hand as she hurried off. Maggie sauntered into the bathroom and took the call.

“Hello?”

“Margaret” a voice on the other end softly spoke. There was a lot of background noise and it sounded like there was a heart monitor in the background.

“Rob?”

“I'm sorry, but you can't work for me anymore”. The words hit Maggie likes a brick. A large, heavy brick thrown right at her chest.

“W-what?”

“I'm sorry. It's not you at all. You are a great employee, you really are. It's just...you're not safe here. I need you to move somewhere away...away from.... _him_ ”

“Him?”

“Your boyfriend. He's violent. He's hospitalised me”

“HE'S WHAT?!”

“No, no, Margaret. I'm okay. I promise you. Just get out of there...now!”. Rob hung up, and Maggie was left devastated.

Eventually, she returned to the table. Nicola handed the bill to the waiter and was just getting up to see what the commotion was about. Maggie instantly fell into her arms.

“What's wrong, sweet pea?”

“Just been fired” she sobbed “Mars beat my boss up”

“Oh my god”. Nicola was stunned. Never before in her life had she met someone as violent as Marshall.

The couple cuddled there for a few minutes in the silence, and then Maggie began to speak.

“Come on” she said, wiping tears from her eyes and straightening her posture “don't we have a hotel room to go to?”

“Och aye! Of course!”.

They grabbed their bags from the seats and swiftly headed out of the restaurant and carried on down George Street, into Charlotte Square. Nicola chuckled to herself.

“10 years ago I lived in there” Nicola told her, nodding to Bute House “I was First Minister”. Margaret giggled.

“You were a great First Minister” said she “So great that my Mother never stopped going on about you!”

“Oh?” she giggled “Well I'm glad I was of service”. They turned left into the Georgian hotel, signed in, and headed for their room.

The couple dropped their bags and kicked off their shoes as soon as they got in. The black-out curtains were shut and the lights were on. The beautiful aroma of freshly cleaned blankets filled the air, alongside the peony air freshener which spiralled the atmosphere. The room was beautiful.

Nicola once again wrapped her arms around Maggie's waist and smirked.

“So” she whispered in her ear “does this count as later to you, princess?”

“Aye” Maggie giggled, kissing Nicola on the lips.

They turned around to face each other and began to snog. Nicola pressed Maggie up against the wall, deepening their embrace. Maggie then wrapped her legs around Nicola, as they made their way over to the bed.

Nicola jovially threw Maggie down on the satin sheets so they were now perpendicular on the bed itself. They playfully rolled around for a bit, lip-locked and fighting over superiority. Eventually, Nicola managed to firmly pin her down and broke the kiss. They were both considerably out of breath and dying to get in each others knickers. Nicola unbuttoned her blouse and slid off her jeans, leaving them spread across the floor. Maggie sat up and together, they pulled off the skater dress to reveal her tartan lingerie. Nicola amorously began to kiss Margaret's chest, unclipping her bra as she did so. Her breasts weren't small enough to say that she was flat chested, but they weren't big enough to cause discomfort whilst doing exercise. Margaret playfully unclipped Nicola's too.

“Oh” she gasped “you dirty girl”. They both chuckled as Nicola pushed her once down again.

“So, you think you can dominate me, huh?” Nicola taunted, beginning to nibble at her soft, lustrous lips. Nicola then passionately began to suck at each nipple as Maggie wrapped her legs around her. Nicola eventually broke free and positioned Maggie 'the right way' on the bed, resting her head on a stack of soft pillows. She began to suck at her underwear, which were now soaking with Maggie's juices. And then, with her teeth, she teasingly trailed her pants down her legs, past her ankles, and hung them around the bedpost alongside their bras.

“Mmm” Nicola moaned, biting her lip as she glanced down, in between Maggie's open thighs “You're gonnae call me Mummy from noo oan, okay hen?”

“Okay” agreed Maggie submissively, positioning herself against the headboard.

“Good girl...”. Nicola smirked. She wanted Theresa's daughter so badly. She desirously sucked at her fingers, spreading open Maggie's labia and beginning to take her time to lick through her folds passionately, all the way up to the clit. Margaret pulled back her clitoral hood, inviting Nicola (or 'Mummy' as she now wants to be called) to play. Mummy locked her arms around baby girls hips and began to play.

Maggie instantly began to writhe and moan.

“God, you're so sensitive” Mummy remarked “such a pretty virgin”. Her tongue circled her pulsating clit, responding to Maggie's every moment. Although she was squirming like a baby, Nicola kept her patience with her green eyed beauty.

“Oh...” Maggie trembled “M-m-mummyyyy”

“Good girl” Nicola muttered, her warm breath purposely stimulating her. Mummy wettened at the sound of her heavy moans; her ego was being given a deep tissue massage.

“I'll show Theresa who's really boss” Nicola thought to herself, still seeking revenge.

She reached to the side of the bed and rummaged her hand through her bag. She pulled out a can of lubricant and plastered it generously all over her index and middle finger, inserting them into Maggie's tight vagina.

“OH!” she cried, extremely loudly, pushing herself up further against the headboard. But Nicola pulled her back down and continued to satisfy her.

Maggie lasted for hours, and honestly, Nicola wasn't complaining. She was have the time of her life observing Theresa's daughter writhe and moan at her every move. She had fallen so hard for Maggie for all the wrong reasons. Finally, after 3 hours of fingering her, Maggie threw her head back and orgasmed so greatly, Nicola's jaw hit the floor. She'd never been able to pleasure a woman this hard in her entire life. She had never been so proud of her fucking abilities.

Nicola curled up against Maggie, who, after 10 whole god damn minutes of orgasm, had just finished panting.

“Oh my goodness...” Margaret sighed, exhausted “...words can't describe how exhilarating that was”

“I bet” giggled Nicola, who began to slowly hump the side of Maggie's leg “ohh...”. Maggie giggled and reached for the lube, smothering her left thigh in the stuff.

“Hop on, Mummy” she whispered seductively in her ear. Nicola obeyed, desperate to straddle her thigh. Maggie wrapped her arms around her waist and assisted Nicola in humping her. Mummy clung desperately to baby girl, softly kissing her neck as she left scratches down her back.

“Uuuhh...” moaned Nicola as she sped up. The pleasure was quickly becoming overwhelming. No. Unbearable. Nicola began to pleasure herself so hard that she couldn't even take it any more and began to sob.

“Don't worry, Mummy” breathed Maggie, who was currently doing all the work “I'll finish you off”. And so Maggie moved a star-struck Sturgeon's hips against her thigh, harder and harder. Faster and faster. Meanwhile, Nicola began to rub Maggie's clitoris again, desperate to hear her groan once more. And she did. Together, they were an unstoppable force.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Good morning, doll” said Nicola as she wrapped her arms around her waist and planting a kiss on Maggie's cheek “sleep well?”

“Definitely” she giggled “probably down to last night”. Nicola tucked some strands of Maggie's hair behind her ear and placed her head against hers.

“It's about time I tell you the truth about yer parents, eh?”. Maggie looked up at her, slightly confused.

“What about them?”

“Yer Dad isnae who yoo think he is” she told her “Yer Da isnae Philip. Naw way in hell. Yer Da is Jeremy Corbyn, and I've been deeply concerned about you your entire life”

 


	7. Let Me Be Your Shield

**Day 1580**

 

**3 rd December 2039**

 

**Preparation for Christmas**

 

So, for the last few days Leanne, Nicola and I have been getting out our Christmas decorations and decking out the house with tinsel and fairy lights. They look amazing! Breath-taking, in fact!

 

“ _Not as amazing as you, sweetheart” Nicola whispered under her breath whilst turning the page to carry on reading her 'daughter's' journal._

 

 

We put up the Christmas tree this afternoon - something my old family were never able to do without squabbling!

Nicola and Leanne are like perfect for each other (they are my OTP) and they literally never fight unlike Theresa and my biological Dad. They'd always fight over silly things, like burning the caramel sauce or, if I'd come home with him from a bike ride and have a few scrapes on my knees, Theresa would death stare and harshly ridicule him, almost like he was abusing me. Jeremy never was though. He was loving and kind, just like Nicola and Leanne. They are the perfect parents.

 

_Nicola giggled as her cheeks turned a pale shade of red. She could always rely on Maggie to cheer her up._

 

Christmas every year here is just bliss. With the crackle of the fire, the smell of indulgent hot chocolates and the warmth of my new mums as we snuggle together in blankets as we watch TV. I have never felt love this warm before.

 

Earlier, before I 'went to sleep' (what a rebel I am), Nicola swept my hair to one side and laid a kiss on my forehead (as she usually does) and told me that she's meeting Theresa tomorrow morning for one of their little catch-ups. I asked her what they'd be discussing but she said that it was “confidential” and that “it's in my best interests that I don't know”. I'm really starting to get concerned that Nicola is going to say or do something to my mother and get herself in to trouble. That's the last thing I want to happen!

 

Anyway, I've got to turn to light off before Mum brings the coffee up to Leanne. Speak soon!

 

* * *

 

 

Nicola shut the navy diary and snuck it back under Maggie's pillow. She was overjoyed that Maggie preferred it here with her fiancée than with her crappy 'family' down south.

 

She much enjoyed Maggie's company. She was bright, enthusiastic and compassionate, just like how she envisioned her perfect daughter to be. Unfortunately, Maggie wasn't technically _their_ daughter - something that bugged Nicola to hell and back. If she could turn back the clocks, Nicola would've exposed Theresa to the press and would have adopted Maggie herself - but you can't change time itself! You can only influence the future, and that's what she was going to do.

 

Swiftly, Nicola made her way out of Maggie's bedroom and down to the front door where she wrapped her black coat around her curves, slipped into a pair of bright red, six inch heels, and grabbed her bag. She poked her head through the door frame.

 

“I'm going now, sweethearts!” she yelled, invoking Maggie and Leanne to come rushing out of the kitchen in their aprons and attack her with hugs and kisses. Nicola loved them to pieces.

“You stay safe now” said Leanne, kissing her on the lips.

“Will do, hen” she replied, returning the gesture. As Leanne rushed off the check on the cake, Nicola pulled Maggie in a wee bit closer.

“Hey, you know I love you and your mother, right?”

“Of course”

“Well, look after her, okay? I might be gone for a while”

“I thought you were just going to the meeting with Theresa and then coming back”

“Well, you know your mother. She hates me and she's worried sick about you but...” Nicola frustratedly ran a hand through her hair “...I don't ever want to give you up”

“I don't want to leave you two either”

“Good” she sighed, relieved “good”. Nicola got on her knees and kissed Maggie's hands.

“You be a good girl for your mother, okay?”

“Yes...mummy”

“Good girl...”. Nicola kissed her on the lips, far harder than she did with Leanne. She then stood up and made her way for the door.

“Bye!”

“Bye!” returned Leanne.

“Bye..” sighed Maggie. She knew that from now on that she'd be worried sick about the pair of them. Her pretend mum and her real mum that is. Both of her pretend mums, actually. There was a great sadness in her eyes, almost like she knew what was going to happen next. Nicola knew something Maggie didn't, and it was only a matter of time before that secret...is revealed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Philip!” Theresa exclaimed, slapping the hand on her thigh down “I'm not going to run off with her! Stop being so self conscious for God's sake!”

“I'm sorry, it's just...” Philip muttered “I have a bad feeling”

“Nicola's hardly going to blackmail me with my own daughter, now, is she?”

“But she promised to get Margaret back down here 4 years a go, Theresa!”

“Margaret's doing a degree in Scotland, Philip! She has a tonne of work to do! She'll be back down here before you know it”

“Fine” he sulked “but if anything happens in there, you'll be the first to tell me. Not Jeremy this time.”

“Of course, darling” she confirmed, leaving a kiss on his forehead “speak soon”

“Love you!”

“I love you too!”. And she slammed the door in his face.

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa and Nicola met outside a hotel in the outskirts of Edinburgh. Even though neither were still in office, they still had very close ties with those in power and they decided to make it a tradition to spend a day or so to themselves once or twice a year, gossiping about designer brands and their personal lives. But today was very different...

The duo hugged endearingly at the entrance as they met.

“It's been a while”

“It has!” Theresa beamed “How have you been?”

“Ach, I've been alright” she lied, desperate not to raise suspicions about her involvement with Margaret “You?”

“Relatively the same, you know. Drinking coffee, thinking about Margaret and shagging my partners. The normal stuff!”. The duo laughed. Ironically, that's what Nicola had been doing too!

“Well, shall we go inside?” she asked, directing her hand towards the entrance.

“Of course, darling”

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa and Nicola lobbed their belongings on the floor and playfully flung each other on the bed. They laughed and joked around for a good 30 minutes before they were actually able to seriously discuss things!

Theresa sat her up against the headboard - something she hadn't done to Nicola in 23 years! She jokingly kissed her on the lips as she sat down to join her.

“Oh” chuckled Nicola “is this where we're taking this?”

“Well I did book a double for a reason”

“I have a fiancée, Theresa!” she grinned, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted.

“Well I have a husband _and_ a boyfriend, Nicola. Do you really think I care?”. Theresa crawled beside Nicola and began affectionately laying kisses down her body.

“Theresa...” she firmly muttered “I-”

“I love you too, darling. Now lie down and-”

“No. Theresa, wait. Look, I can't do this! I love Leanne and-”

“I love you too” she repeated, pulling her reluctant body closer to hers.

“Theresa”

“Shall we leave it for later?”. Nicola sighed, frustrated that she wasn't getting to message.

“Fine”

 

* * *

 

 

They stumbled back into the hotel room, intoxicated and lively from the bar they just came back from. Theresa took no time in pinning Nicola up against the wall and passionately snogging her, but Nicola held back.

“Theresa...please” she bargained “not now”

“Isn't this later enough for you?”. There was silence. Nicola's eyes widened, realising what Theresa had been hinting at this whole time.

“Tell me, Sturgeon” Theresa elaborated “Why do you think it's okay to shag my daughter, and not me?”

“How the hell-”

“Hush now, Krankie” she scorned, silencing her with her right index finger “For far too long now you've been taking advantage of the state and then complaining about it behind its back”

“Stop it with the metaphors, Theresa” she instructed, pushing her finger aside “You tell me right now how _the hell_ you saw us fucking!”

“I was watching from the wardrobe”

“YOO WERE WHIT?” she yelled, exasperated “HOW ON EARTH DID YOU EVEN GET IN THERE?”

“ **WITH THE SPARE KEY YOU GAVE TO MARGARET!** ”. There was a long, destructive pause as the couple got to grips with what they had both done.

“What?”

“Look, I didn't trust you to find my daughter and bring her back to me safely. I knew you were going to take advantage of her. I should have known better than to put my trust in you”

“Excuse me” she snarled “How _**dare**_ you talk about me like that”

“How dare _you_ shag my daughter, _**little girl**_ ”

“So we're gonnae play _that_ game, are we?” she breathed, cracking her knuckles “I'll have you know that I've been a dominant all my life, Theresa”

“So have I”

“But aim Scottish. An' I can dae et better 'han yoo”

“Go on. Try me, wee nippie”.

 

* * *

 

 

Nicola hauled Theresa over her lap and rolled up her dress up to her hips to reveal her signature leopard print underwear. Nicola snickered.

“Where did you get these from, the charity shop?”

“They are designer, Sturgeon”

“My arse could do a better job”

“You don't have an arse”

“Exactly” Nicola affirmed “but you do”. And so, with all the might that her tough hands could deliver, Nicola skelped Theresa's arse, causing her to let out a long, passionate moan.

“Does that feel good, May?” Nicola taunted “What about this?”. She brought her hand down harder this time, leaving tears welling in Theresa's eyes.

“Is this...what you do...to my daughter?” she struggled, sniffing back the tears.

“No, because she's a good girl, unlike some”. Nicola spanked her again, catching Theresa off guard who, unlike normal people, was a bit of a masochist. And when I say a bit, I'm lying. I mean a lot.

Nicola rubbed her hand over Theresa's embarrassing underwear, and began teasing her throbbing clit.

“Please..” Theresa begged “fuck me”

“No” asserted Nicola, much to her surprise “because unlike you, I have morals and ethics”

“Is that what you said to your husband before Ruth killed him?”

“LEAVE PETER OUT OF THIS!” Nicola boomed, echoing through the silent halls “Theresa I am naw shagging yoo”

“Then give me back my daughter” spat she.

“I cannae give your daughter back”

“What do you mean 'you can't'?”

“She doesn't want to come back”

“Don't lie to me, Sturgeon” she snickered “I know what you're playing at”

“Dae ya?” she teased “Then you'll know that I'm not going to shag you”. But Theresa was having none of it. Like an animal, she grasped onto Nicola's dress and began to snog her harder than she ever had before.

“What would your daughter think of this, Theresa?” she snorted.

“She doesn't have to know”

“What if I told you that I already knew you were watching us”

“Yeah? What kind of plot twist are you going to unveil now? That Margaret's in the fucking wardrobe?”

“Mum, for Christ's sake” Margaret remarked “I was in the bathroom”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Although A Hail of Bullets May Sink Into My Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The princess is in another castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read them already, I highly recommend reading my other fanfictions because it helps you make more sense of the plot - especially 'The Formation of a Union we all want'.

She tightened the ropes that bound her wrists to the drawers, tieing the ends to the crimson cord which kept her paralysed and unable to move. The vindictive figure maliciously grinned as she tightened the final knot around Theresa's mouth. She tried to scream through the gag, but it was no use. She couldn't save Margaret now.

 

The woman stood up straight on her six inch heels which were black as soot, as dark as her intentions.

 

She made her way over the the petite lass who was resting patiently, cuddled up in the dreamy pillows of the king size bed, waiting for her 'Mummy' to come and make her happy. Nicola sat on the side of the bed and seductively trailed her hands up Maggie's legs, all the way up to her navy underwear, which Nicola took little time in tracing down her thighs and past her ankles. She couldn't wait to see Maggie writhe and moan again like she did on the last night of her virginity.

 

“Oh Theresa” sighed Nicola “Your DNA really is the best in the gene pool. Shame that you didn't want to share it with me”. Theresa began battering the soles of her feet against the carpet.

 

“There's no going back now, sweetie” she hummed, massaging her cold fingers through Maggie's wet labia “mmm”.

 

Nicola slowly began to attentively suck on her lover's clit, locking her arms around her waist for added protection. The motions of her tongue were so passionate and precise, sending Maggie into fits of pleasure and sheer indulgence. But she kept her moans to a minimum as so not to disturb her biological Mother who her kinky 'Mother' had just tied up opposite the bed, and who she was desperately trying to forget so that her desire would not be savagely murdered.

 

“A bit louder, hen” Nicola instructed, breathing heavily against her swelling core “be a good girl for Mummy”. Maggie let out a deep, erotic moan as she fell into the warm embrace of orgasm, sending Theresa into profound shock.

 

Theresa tried to yell at Nicola, frantically yanking against the ropes which bound her, but it was no use.

 

“Can you tell your M-...wee peasant friend to keep her mouth shut before I force her to perform cunnilingus on me?”. There was silence and Maggie raised an eyebrow.

 

“Whit? She's done it before”. Maggie shot a judgemental glare over to Theresa, severely questioning her hatred for her previous sexual partner. Meanwhile, Nicola slid off her lacy knickers, throwing them at Theresa's face.

 

“There we go, princess” she affirmed, unbuckling her maroon bra “time for kisses”. And so they switched places, leaving Maggie to pleasure Nicola in front of her own Mother.

 

“Lift your hips and show Theresa what she's so kindly given to me, sweetheart” Nicola bravely instructed. Maggie obeyed, revealing to Theresa her folds which were now coated in her juices and Nicola's saliva. Theresa shivered.

 

Nicola began to taunt her with her loud moaning and constant references to her daughters' exceptional sexual performance. But as Nicola lifted Maggie up like a rag doll and pushed her to the bottom of the bed, snogging her with everlasting affection, Theresa sneakily tried to untie the ropes which bound her.

 

“I know what you're doing, May” Nicola remarked as she broke the kiss, lathering Maggie's clitoris with tingling lubricant, leading her to let out a cry of “Mummmmyyyy”.

 

“Don't worry, doll. I'll deal with her”.

 

And so for the rest of the night, Nicola scissored Maggie, her gaze locked with Theresa's. They must've gone for 5 or 6 rounds before Nicola cared to stop, and it was evident that the euphoric wee girl was weak.

 

Nicola took her attention back to Maggie, pushing some frizzy strands of her chestnut hair back behind her small ears. And with a few kisses and a lot of re-dressing, the couple were gone...

 

* * *

 

 

They held hands as they made their way back to the train station, luggage dangled over their shoulders. As they made their way to the ticket machine, they took a few moments to deeply stare into each others eyes. Nicola wrapped her arms around Maggie's hips and pulled her closer, sensually pecking at her lips.

 

“You are so beautiful” she whispered, trembling at the sight.

 

“So are you”. They pulled each other closer, their warmth defying the frosty breeze which spiralled the atmosphere.

 

“You did so well today, kitten” Nicola proclaimed, praising her obedient princess. Maggie just smiled and hopped into Nicola's grasp, letting her sink into her weary curves. Nicola pushed her up against the numbing concrete wall and began whispering sweet nothings into her mouth.

 

“Now, my good girl” she breathed, forehead against forehead “you go back down to Wales. Theresa will chase me thinking that you're tagging along, and the last thing I want is for you to have to go back there”

 

“But Mummy I-”

 

“No buts, my love” muttered Nicola “I'll be back in no time once I've found a new place for us to stay. But for now, look after my fiancée and cuddle her for me”

 

“You said no buts”. They quietly chuckled.

 

“Clever girl...”. She placed a heartfelt kiss upon Maggie's forehead and stationed her gently back onto her feet.

 

“I love you, Margaret Naomi _Corbyn-May_ ”

 

“I love you too, Nicola Ferguson Sturgeon”

 

* * *

 

 

Philip and Jeremy had stayed at home, cuddling up in the satin sheets. It had been a long day without Theresa, but finally, the boys had found some peace. More specifically, they had found peace in each other.

 

“Jeremyyyy” Philip playfully whined in his ear.

 

“What does the Right Honourable gentleman want at this hour?”

 

“I need to deposit my assets, Jeremyyyyy”

 

“Well then go to the b-. Ah, I see what you're doing here”. Philip chuckled to himself as Jeremy shifted his withered body around to face his.

 

“What would Theresa think of this behaviour, Philip?”

 

“We share her, Jeremy. Why can't we share each other for a change?”

 

“Is that what the Right Honourable gentleman desires?”

 

“It is indeed”

 

“Well then” he replied reaching in to his bedside drawer “let's begin”.

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa marched down the street, furious at what she just witnessed. Questions raced through her mind, blurring her subconscious. What on Earth had she just seen? Like honestly, what the actual fuck?!

 

She signalled to the taxi driver, who was just pulling up on the curb to drop off a client. She hopped in and buckled up.

 

“Train station, please, darling”

 

“O' course, love”

 

“Thank you”. And they drove off.

 

* * *

 

 

Philip pounded himself into Jeremy's g-spot like a wrecking ball hitting a paper factory. His anus was in ruins. Jeremy gripped his hands against the sheets as they let out several cries in unison. The pleasure was emphatic, with tears of joy rolling down each others cheeks and into their locked lips, the couple were having the time of their lives. But it was short lived.

 

The phone rang, alerting a paranoid Philip to the prospect of his darling wife having watched him have anal sex with her boyfriend this entire time. He ran to fetch it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Philip?”

 

“Theresa” he sighed “Thank God. Are you alright?”

 

“Of course I am, honey. And hey! I managed to find Margaret!”

 

“Really? Oh my-” Philip paused, sweating and overjoyed “Is she coming down to see us?”

 

“Not from what I've seen” Theresa muttered, rolling her eyes and peering over the top of the seats to glance at Nicola's bobbing head again. From where she was sat, it looked like she was fingering herself. God forbid if Margaret was involved!

 

“She's with Nicola, whom I can see at the front of the first class carriage”

 

“Why?”

 

“I think they're dating”. There was a pause.

 

“I mean, love is love, Theresa. At least we know that Nicola won't hurt her”

 

“No, but she is trying to hurt me”

 

“Theresa, don't be like this”

 

“Be like what?”

 

“Just because you may not approve of it...”

 

“I do!” she shrieked “It's just...”

 

“Just what?”

 

“Look, Nicola tied me up in the hotel room and shagged Maggie in front of me, okay? Do you not think I've seen enough of her behaviour to be able to judge their relationship?”

 

“I mean, that's not too bad”

 

“Nicola made her refer to her as 'Mummy'. I mean, who the hell does that, Philip?!?”

 

“Okay, maybe you're right but what if-”

 

“Philip this is no time for playing devil's advocate. Just get your arse up to Edinburgh Waverley. We need to stop her”

 

“Fine”. He slammed the phone down and let out a grand old sigh.

 

“Jeremy!” Philip reluctantly and rather unenthusiastically cried “get your shoes on”

 

“Why?”

 

“We're tracking down our daughter”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nicola sat at the front of the train with her phone in hand, chatting to Leanne, who was worried sick about her and her 'daughter'.

 

“Sweet pea, it's okay. I've sent her back down to you. It's time to get some rest now” she gently instructed. Leanne rolled over in their bed.

 

“But it's so hard to get to sleep with you here beside me” she sniffled “you'd always help me get to sleep, honey”

 

“Touch yourself, my dear” Nicola soundly ordered “I'll be here to listen to you, precious”

 

“Will you join in?”

 

“Of course, baby”

 

“Okay” she chuckled, lubricating her fingers.

 

Nicola reached in to her bag and pulled out a remote for the vibrator in her knickers (which she keeps there in case she's in need of discreet relief). She switched it on to medium and put up her legs on the empty table, resting her head against the train seat. Nicola moaned quietly down the phone to Leanne.

 

“You better be putting your pretty little fingers into your knickers, young lady”

 

“Y-yes. Of course, baby”

 

“How does that feel, sweetheart? Feeling any better?”

 

“S-so good” whined she as her fingers circled her pulsating clitoris “I miss you so much. I wish you were here to do this”

 

“I miss you too” Nicola replied, copying Leanne's movements with her fingers on the top of her jeans “You beautiful lass”. A tear fell down her cheek. She knew what was coming next and she couldn't stop the pain. How did she know about this? Well...

 

...she read it in a letter.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Philip and Jeremy rushed over to Theresa who was trying to blend in with the crowd of Edinburgh Waverley station.

 

“Where is she?” Jeremy cried as he ran over to Theresa to give her a hug.

 

“I don't know but I'm getting MI5 on it”

 

“Not again” he sighed “We don't want another repeat of last time”

 

“No it's not to swat her, Jeremy!” Theresa laughed “It's to find out where Nicola is so that we can negotiate”

 

“Phew!”. There was a collective sigh among the three of them. And in that moment Theresa's phone buzzed.

 

“Ah, Edinburgh Castle, boys” she winked “time to take down the evil queen”.

 

* * *

 

 

Nicola swayed back and forth over the eerie cobbles of the castle, glancing up at the gloomy grey skies as the rain began to spit at her. The trio were obviously taking their time when it came to confrontation. Scared maybe?

 

Moments later she could hear two English voices bickering from behind her about who should go first.

 

“Jeremy, it's your daughter!” he cried, struggling to hold on to the sides of the entrance as Jelly kept heaving into him.

 

“I'm a pacifist, Philip! I'll be a goner!”

 

“Well she's a pacifist too so” Philip grabbed him and through him across the cobbles “go!”.

 

Jeremy barely landed on his feet. He stumbled up to her until they were roughly two metres apart. Philip came to join him after some gentle persuading from Theresa. Nicola turned around to face them.

 

“Nice place, Edinburgh” she nodded, making her way over to greet them “Doesn't usually deal with pricks like yoos though”. Philip's face twisted in disgust.

 

“Now, lads” she hissed, straightening her shoulders, readying her stance, cracking her knuckles and her tongue in cheek “Your chances of reaching her are as slim as the Tories coming back into power”. Jeremy chuckled, pleased with himself as a seething Philip hurled himself towards her in defense of his wife. Nicola put him in a headlock.

 

“You...filthy...bitch” he spat, struggling and desperate to get out of her grasp.

 

“What was 'hat, Philip?” she taunted “Filthy bitch? Och, aim naw yer wife noo aim I?”. Philip turned his head to Jeremy.

 

“What does that even mean?”. Before Jeremy could answer, Nicola threw Philip onto the ground and pinned him there, in a daze, with her tartan heels. Theresa emerged from the entrance, ready to attack Nicola at any given opportunity. Swiftly, Jeremy tried to push her over but was met by an almighty head-but, knocking him straight to the floor alongside his fellow partner.

 

“Vegetarians, eh?” Nicola snickered as she stared wickedly into Theresa's eyes. She took a few steps towards the merciless woman and folded her arms.

 

“What have you done with my daughter, nippy?”

 

“Your daughter?” she snickered “Isnae et plain tae see?!”

 

“What have you done with my daughter, Sturgeon?” she repeated, rigidly this time.

 

“The princess is in another castle”.

 

Theresa's old eyes met with Nicola's. Nicola's devilish eyes met with Theresa's. And with the press of a button from an old friend's teleport, Nicola was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Leanne lay quietly on the sofa, running her hands through Maggie's silky hair. Their embrace was ever so strong, yet ever so tender. Maggie shuffled her head closer in.

 

“Mum”

 

“Yes, sweetheart?” Leanne replied.

 

“I love you”

 

“I love you too, sweetheart”. Gosh, it was so much easier to breathe with Maggie curled up by her side.

 

“Mum” she asked again.

 

“Yes sweetheart?”

 

“Why is Mum so protective of me?”

 

“Because we don't want anyone to hurt you, sweetie pie” Leanne replied, still half asleep. She reached for the lamp behind her and switched it on in a last ditch attempt to wake herself up.

 

“Why would anyone hurt me?” Maggie questioned, confident that she could live without a guardian angel.

 

“Because...”

 

“Because what?”

 

“Because..there are some people out there who want to take advantage of you”

 

“Like who?”

 

“That is none of your concern” she reassured her “Now you go to sleep. You need it. God knows what you've been doing with your Mother all night”. They both giggled to each other rather loudly, but it was good to have a bit of time to make a joke. Well, at least that's what Leanne thought it was anyway!

 

“Mum”

 

“Sweetheart” Leanne whined “You're not 4! You don't need to keep asking me these questions!”

 

“Why does Mum hate Theresa so much?”. Leanne sighed.

 

“Because Theresa used to date Nicola but Theresa savagely tore apart their bond. Also, whilst they were each others sexual partners, Theresa was also fucking your father, never mind your step-dad!”

 

“So she pretty much cheated on three people at once”

 

“Yeah” Leanne sighed “and two out of those three are still with her, failing to see what she gets up to in her free time”

 

“Oh dear...” she trailed, biting her lip momentarily “Does Theresa know that you and Mum are...together?”

 

“No, but she'll no doubt find out soon..”. Leanne sat up on the couch, readjusting Maggie's resting body once more and bringing her in to cuddle.

 

“But don't you ever leave” she continued “Not once. Not ever. I may not be your biological Mother, but I sure feel like it on days like this”. Maggie snuggled in closer, leaving a kiss on the side of her face.

 

And so they laid there until the Sun rose up above the oceans and into the blue sky, and then it all started again...

 

 

 


	9. We'll Still Have Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 years on and Maggie has escaped from the crossfire. But what happens when the ghosts of her past fight back?

_"Maggie, please, don't leave us" Leanne begged her, tears pouring from her eyes. Her only child was about to make a run for it. From her. It felt like Leanne's heart had been torn to shreds, ripped apart in the crossfire._

 

_"I'll be back, Mum, don't you fret". Leanne squeezed her fragile body and tight as she possible could._

 

_"You promise that to me - to us - yeah?" she sobbed._

 

_"100%"_

 

_"Goodbye sweetheart" whimpered Leanne, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead "Aren't you going to stay to say goodbye to Nicola?"_

 

_"I don't think I'd be able to handle it...but thank you for everything, Leanne"_

 

_"Oh really, it was my pleasure"_

 

_"I love you"_

 

_"I love you too". And she reached for the door knob and ran._

 

* * *

 

 

The trees swayed in the gentle breeze, crisp leaves swooping through the air. The ground was wet and muddy as the couple trekked along the lone autumn path, the gush of the cascading water resounding from the river which flowed heavily beside them. It crashed against the muddy slope, eroding the very fabric of the Earth from its own face. Luckily for the couple, a strong barrier of fresh pine trees acted as their flood defence, keeping them safe and dry on their long walk.

 

The younger woman was quite short, about 5”2, and yet bore awesome curves which would make any man swoon and collapse on the floor in a puddle of sweat and envy. Her caramel curls bounced upon her shoulders, creeping down the back of her neck. They jumped to her every step, her every sway. She wore a long, navy, tight tartan dress with a large, black leather jacket sprawled across her shoulders. Her legs were protected by nude stockings (which the suspenders of her frilly lingerie held up for her) and her confident stride was perfected in a pair of old and baggy ankle boots.

 

Her soft hands were gripped firmly by the woman on the right, who was of bigger build and greater maturity. Her hair was as black as coal, bobbing up and down with every movement. She wore a murky green jacket and a pair of tight denim jeans. To finish off her look, she strolled along the path in a pair of matching Wellington boots and a beautiful golden necklace with a pair of identical earrings. Together, they were an unstoppable force.

 

When they reached the bridge, they sat down and gawked at the magnificence of nature itself. A pristine waterfall, its flood of purity crashing against the rocks below and being carried away by the stark momentum of the flow. How fascinating. How beautiful. How magical...

 

“You know, I bet Nicola and Leanne couldn't take you to places like these” the Scottish Tory remarked smugly, wrapping her left arm around Maggie's small body. Maggie just smiled and giggled along.

 

It had been 9 years since they'd met and 10 years since the fateful day that Maggie decided she should escape the places which she called home. Escape from the places full of dark secrets and painful lies. Escape from the places where violent storms taunted her every move with memories of the past. She had to flee from the crossfire. Flee from the battlegrounds in which her parents and guardians fought upon. And they put up a tremendous fight!

 

The morning had come and gone and the couple made their way back up to the Highlands, the only place of safety in times of such angst. There had never been a place so serene.

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa sat at home, dismally stirring her coffee, fatigue evident in her glare. Philip ran over to her with an excited glow in his eyes. His wrinkled hands held a print out of a photograph which had been taken by some professional photographers who were hiding in the bushes. The picture depicted Margaret tenderly wrapped up in Ruth Davidson's loving embrace upon a wooden bridge in front of a waterfall near Pitlochry. Theresa's eyes lit up as she examined the image.

 

“Margaret” she whispered, absolutely gobsmacked “Ruth has been keeping her safe this entire time”

 

“Maybe she's trying to make it up to you for the whole MI5 bonanza when you were PM?”

 

“Maybe...” she sighed. But Theresa didn't care. All she cared about was the prospect of seeing her daughter once again before she inevitably passed away. Quickly, she pulled out her laptop from her bag and started getting to work, planning a trip up to Scotland.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey Philip, there's a small cake shop over there!” Jeremy beamed, pointing his finger at a small, light blue exterior “I'm hungry, what about you?”

 

“Could do with a snack I guess” he sniffled. Scotland's cold climate really wasn't doing any good for poor Philip!

 

The duo opened the door to the bakery, the sweet waft of confectioneries greeting them as they entered. The floor was panelled with dark wood and polaroid snaps and fairy lights lined the pale walls, providing the room with a snug atmosphere. They wandered over to the counter and gawked like children at the assortment of cupcakes, muffins, tarts, cakes, tray bakes and biscuits. Everything you could ever want or ever need. Heck, they even served afternoon tea!

 

Maggie tied up her messy hair and her stripy apron and carefully picked up a fresh tray bake from the kitchen, making her way over to the counter to present them in an aesthetically pleasing fashion. She was expecting Ruth to barge in at any second. She was addicted to her cakes, after all! But what she didn't expect were her two Fathers peering through the mesh domes (which protected the delicacies from sneaky customers) and drooling over the prospect of indulging in them. She froze as she walked through the door frame, all eyes were on her.

 

“M-m-margaret?” Philip stuttered, lifting his fedora from his head “Is that...you?”

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa was one with nature. She swept through the enchanted forest like a leaf dancing in the wind. The uplifting atmosphere had once again swept her off her feet, placing her head firmly in the clouds. She could feel all her weight lifting off her shoulders and the tiredness running away. Theresa felt young again, and she couldn't quite believe it.

 

The silence was short-lived and was broken by the loud rings and violent buzzes coming from her phone. What did Philip want this time?

 

“Hello” she sighed, already dearly missing prancing around the greenery like Julie Andrews on crack.

 

“I've found her, Theresa” Philip May cheered, greatly elated “Come quickly!”

 

“Where?” she asked, overjoyed “Where was she, Philip?”

 

“She works in a bakery here!” he chuckled “Quick! She's in the back!”

 

“Okay, dear. I'm coming!”

 

“Be quick, love!” he playfully laughed “Before she escapes again!”

 

“I'm sure she won't”. And she hung up the call just like that. Theresa just couldn't wait to see her daughter again!

 

* * *

 

 

Maggie crouched down in the back of the store room, petrified. She hoped to hell that Ruth would turn up any minute now, but she knew that Ruth got on well with her Dads – but Maggie knew exactly who didn't. In the blink of an eye, Maggie whipped out her phone and dialled the only number she knew would save her. The only person who would ever risk their life for her. Nicola.

 

* * *

 

 

Nicola snuggled up against Leanne on the bed, resting her head softly in a crevice in her neck. She began to playfully peck at her collar bone as she lifted her leg and rested it on top of hers. Leanne, who was sipping on her tea, just chuckled, returning the favour with increaed passion. The couple were recently married, and they were happy too. Ecstatic some may say. They were still infatuated by one another just like they were on day one, when they met for the first time.

 

Nicola's old smartphone screamed from the top of the bed side table. Slightly irritated, Nicola clumsily weaved her hands over to it, knocking over a bottle of lubricant as she went. She stared down at the phone. It was an unknown number – probably a scammer or a PPI company.

 

“Do PPI companies even still exist?” questioned Nicola, glancing up at Leanne.

 

“If they do they probably don't get much business”

 

“Fair enough”. Nicola answered the phone to the voice of a familiar 'daughter' sniffling down the line.

 

“Mum” Maggie quietly whimpered.

 

“Maggie?” Nicola's heart skipped a beat as she sat herself up against the headboard in profound shock “Maggie is that you?”

 

“Yes” she sniffed “Yes, Mum, please”

 

“What's wrong, love?”

 

“Philip and Jeremy found me and they're calling Theresa and I'm scared”. Nicola sighed, shutting her eyes for a second. She knew very well that she could do nothing in this situation.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“Pitlochry”

 

“Tomintoul, an hour away”

 

“Brilliant”

 

“Do you have anyone else you could call?”

 

“The only person is Ruth but she sides with Philip and...”. Maggie kept talking but Nicola stopped listening. Did she just seriously say Ruth? As in Ruth Davidson?

 

“Which Ruth is this, sweetheart?” she interrupted, increasingly worried for her safety.

 

“Davidson”

 

“Fuck” Nicola muttered to herself, dropping the phone on her lap momentarily, but picking it up again once she'd finished her little fit “Why the hell are you around her, eh?”

 

“She gave me a place to stay when I...” Maggie took in a sharp intake of breath “...ran off”. Nicola sighed and firmly face palmed as she handed the phone over to Leanne. She put the phone to her ear, desperate to talk to her 'daughter'.

 

“Come home right this instant, young lady” she sternly instructed, something which Nicola couldn't even begin to conceive would come out the mouth of a squish like Leanne “I am not having you near anyone who will put you in danger”

 

“Okay, Mum” she sniffed. But the door creaked open from in front of Maggie, revealing a tall, dark figure presiding over her, shadowed in darkness. Maggie held the phone to her neck as Leanne and Nicola tried to lecture her down the line, but Maggie heard nothing. All she could hear was the blood-curdling echoes of her own internal screams, resonating sharply throughout her rattled body. Theresa was going to take her back. Back to square one. And she didn't like the sound of it one bit.

 


	10. Forever and Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when ghosts from all corners of Maggie's life take revenge?

“ **DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW WORRIED WE WERE ABOUT YOU?!** ” bellowed Theresa as she slammed Margaret's front door behind her with the force of a speeding freight train. Margaret let out a little whimper as her shaken body tried to desperately scale the pale walls - but it was no use. Margaret couldn't escape now.

 

“ **WE LOOKED EVERYWHERE FOR YOU** ” she yelled, the tears of rage prickling at her eyes, “ **YOU COULD'VE AT LEAST SAID GOODBYE** ”. Margaret fell to the carpet, rattled to the core. Her eyes cried oceans but her face didn't say a single thing at all. Not a movement. Not a sound. The vibrancy of her eyes had vanished and all that was left was the broken echoes of the past, scratching and scraping against her soul, tearing at her like nails on a chalkboard. And yet she couldn't feel a thing.

 

“Margaret” Jeremy calmly asked, “what exactly happened with you and Nicola?”. The room fell silent. The words were surfacing at the tip of her tongue but her mouth refused to speak them. _To utter them_.

 

“We're not going to get mad at you” Philip stated, crouching at her side and placing a reassuring hand on her thigh, “we just need to know where you've been”

 

“Here” she answered, returning with the accent of a small, emotionally broken, rich, southern English child, “now please, I beg you, go”

 

“No” Theresa ferociously spat, “Never again”. She forcefully thrust their bags against the wall and marched into the kitchen.

 

“This is our house now, Margaret”

 

“Mum, please”

 

“ **You have no choice** ”. The bitter words began to burn through Margaret's chest. They had left a flesh wound seemingly as quick as they'd came.

 

“Mum...”

 

“What?” she acrimoniously scathed. In all honesty, she didn't really want to hear another word of what she had to say until she'd cooled down - but the cool off was going have to wait.

 

“I'm pregnant”.

 

* * *

 

 

A day had passed and the quartet was now bundling their luggage into the boot of the taxi and heading back down to England.

 

“Got everything?” Theresa asked, patting herself down for good measure.

 

“Yep” beamed Margaret.

 

“Good” she nodded, clambering into the car after her, “let's be off then”

 

“Margaret” quizzed Jeremy, “how exactly did Ruth get you pregnant?”

 

“It's a long story”

 

“Well, we have like 10 hours”

 

“Okay, fine” she sighed in defeat, “It all started a few months back when Nicola revealed that she was moving to the Highlands which is, coincidentally, where we were”

 

* * *

 

 

_Ruth leant against the living room door frame, dress only in a short dress and a pair of black heels which she then took the courtesy of kicking off. She'd just won another 'Scottish Politician of the Year' award and so was firmly set on her high horse for the rest evening. Well, that would be so if Nicola Sturgeon, her rival, hadn't told her that she was moving further up the map to the Highlands._

 

_Ruth ran a frustrated hand through her hair as Margaret exited the bathroom, robed only in a white towel. She must've just had a bath._

 

“ _Hey sweetie” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around her waist from behind her._

 

“ _Hi sweetheart” she replied, pecking her on the cheek in adoration,”how are you feeling?”_

 

“ _Better than yesterday, that's for sure!”. Maggie chuckled but stopped as she recognised the frustration hidden in Ruth's face._

 

“ _You?”. Ruth heavily sighed._

 

“ _Your ex may be hunting us down”_

 

“ _What?”_

 

“ _She's moving to our area”. There was a pause._

 

“ _Why?”_

 

“ _She says it'll help Leanne breathe better, being up in the Highlands with a shit tonne of trees and that”_

 

“ _Oh, okay”_

 

“ _I can't have them finding you here”_

 

“ _It's okay, I can easily stay hidden”_

 

“ _I can't have them interfere”. Ruth gazed at her in a way she'd never witnessed before. It was almost like Maggie was some sort of experiment..._

 

“ _So, what can we do then?” Margaret questioned, typically unfazed by the prospect of Nicola finding her again._

 

“ _Never thought you'd ask”. Ruth pulled out a plastic tube which bore the resemblance to a tampon applicator, but instead of the tampon there was a tube filled with some strange solution, so really the 'item' looked more like a half tampon applicator half syringe. Ruth adjusted herself against the door frame to face her._

 

“ _My team have been working on this for a long time,” she told her with a smirk, “you've basically got to put it up your fanny and 9 months later a miracle is born”_

 

“ _Oh God”_

 

“ _Think about it this way: If Nicola found you settled down with me and a baby, would she find it in herself to intervene? No, she wouldn't. So, unless you want to roleplay incest for the rest of your life, I suggest you comply”_

 

“ _Fine” Maggie conceded, taking the device and making her way back into the bathroom, “okay...”_

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, a message popped up on Margaret's smartphone. It was from Nicola.

 

_Where are you, love? xx_

 

But before she could reply, Theresa snatched the phone from her grip. Theresa snickered, but not mockingly, it was more... _furious_ than that. She violently slammed her fingers against the screen, composing a long message full of nasty words and phrases she could use to piss Nicola off. All this anger that had boiled up in her from the past 20 or so years was now being channelled through her skin and onto the machine. In that moment, Theresa was rage itself.

 

* * *

 

 

_HOW DARE YOU_

 

The message read.

 

_HOW DARE YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO EVEN CONTACT MY DAUGHTER WITH SUCH A QUERY. I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL, YOU STUBBY COW. YOU STOLE MY DAUGHTER JUST BECAUSE YOU FAILED TO CONCEIVE YOUR OWN. I TRUSTED YOU AND THEN YOU SO COWARDLY SNATCHED HER AWAY FROM ME. I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS, NIPPY. I REALLY DID. AND NOW SHE'S PREGNANT WITH OUR ENEMY'S CHILD! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?! I HOPE YOU'RE THE FIRST TO KICK THE BUCKET OUT OF THE PAIR OF US, YOUNG LASS, OR SHOULD I SAY 'SLUT' – BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!!!!!_

 

“Jings,” Nicola remarked as she peered down at her phone, “Theresa really does have some rage bottled up inside her, the wee witch”. Leanne snickered. They high-fived each other as the IP tracker began working its magic on her phone. Because Theresa sent that message through Maggie's phone, Nicola could track the message back to the destination and essentially find her 'daughter' after all this time!

 

“Bingo” muttered Nicola as she reached for her coat, “outskirts of Glasgow. You keep an eye on her GPS, okay? She'll probably end up turning it on if they stop at a hotel or some place. And tell me if it does! I need to know where she is so I can bring her back to us”

 

“Will do” Leanne nodded, briefly sipping at her scalding tea, “seeya later”

 

“Seeya”. And with a peck on the forehead and a slam of the door, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

“Can I go out for a breath of fresh air before breakfast?” Margaret asked Theresa as they headed down the hotel corridors to the restaurant.

 

“Okay then” she sighed, “But I'm terribly hungry. You better not take long”

 

“I won't” winked Margaret “promise”

 

“Fine”. And so Margaret ambled out of the fire exit, eager to breath the sort-of fresh Carlisle air. Better than polluted old London, she supposed! Margaret took in a long, refreshing inhale, holding back for a moment to feel the air rush down the back of her throat. And then she breathed out.

 

“Boo” whispered Nicola, playfully nudging her, “it's me”

 

“Oh my,” Maggie blurted out in her old posh accent, “okay?”. Nicola rolled her eyes.

 

“You've spent too much time with your Mother already, haven't you?”

 

“It was only like, 2 days, Mum. I'm fine!”

 

“Your accent isn't”. Nicola prised open the fire exit which was about to shut and ushered Maggie inside.

 

“Do you have your room key?”

 

“Of course I do!” she insisted, pulling it out of her bra.

 

“I'm assuming your parents have gone to breakfast?”

 

“Correct”

 

“Well then” Nicola asserted, offering out her hand and imitating Maggie's English accent “take me to your room”

 

* * *

 

 

Maggie wrapped her legs around Nicola's hips as they playfully tumbled, lip locked, onto the king size mattress.

 

“Pregnant, are we?” uttered Nicola between feisty pecks, “does my dirty girl need punishing or pleasuring?”

 

“Both” she whimpered, biting her bottom lip as Nicola removed her cream overcoat.

 

“As you wish, princess”. Nicola began biting at her neck, leaving a prominent trail of love bites as she went. She ran her hands up through Maggie's woollen jumper to find out that she was only wearing a bra underneath, which she didn't hesitate in removing. Nicola sat her wee bundle of curves up to the side and slid her skinny jeans and pink, frilly knickers to her ankles.

 

“We won't have long before they get suspicious, hen” Nicola told her, just itching to feel the inside of Maggie once again, “so that's why I'm not taking much off”

 

“It's okay, Mummy” she replied, rubbing her head further into a crevice in Nicola's neck, “can you finger me now?”

 

“Of course, sweetheart”. Nicola lubricated her fingers with her own saliva and began rubbing against Margaret's surprisingly wet clitoris, forcing her to let out a sharp cry.

 

“Someone hasn't been touched in a long time” she smirked as she inserted three fingers into her tight vagina. Maggie clung onto Nicola as the pleasure surged through her like electricity. It was inducing her to tears.

 

“Has Ruth been experimenting on you again?”. Maggie looked up at her, confused.

 

“A-again?”

 

“Yes, again” she affirmed, gripping her sweetheart tighter against her chest, “what did she do to you this time?”

 

“She told me it was just vitamins”

 

“She's made you pop pills, aye?” she chuckled, lifting an eyebrow, “when was the last time you had sex?”

 

“A week ago?”

 

“How was it?” she asked, “Was it like this right now, where you're literally screaming in sensitivity as I try to pleasure you?”

 

“Yes, but it wasn't this bad. And besides, I was tied up and it felt good”

 

“Do you want me to tie you up, then?”

 

“It wouldn't be a quick escape for the two of us then”

 

“Fair enough”. Nicola continued to rub her precious princess as she clung to her for dear life. Maggie screamed as her fingers found her way to her G-spot, and Nicola just laughed. She was enjoying every second of this. Don't get her wrong, she was furious at Ruth for experimenting on her _again_ , but you've gotta love some of the improvements she's made to her. Nicola's sadomasochism was having a field day! Soon enough, Maggie was pushed into the void of orgasm - it was so intense that she nearly passed out! And then she did....

 


	11. Until The Clock Strikes Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock strikes twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will make infinitely more sense if you've read 'The Formation of a Union We All Want' which you can find here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8282084/chapters/18973106

Theresa stormed down the cosy halls of the Carlisle hotel, her rage seeping into the winds which tailed her frustrated stride. Her four inch heels clapped against the wooden floor as she made her way to their room, key card gripped tightly in her clammy palms. She ferociously barged into the open door. There was no one in sight. Theresa's heart sank as her gaze made its way to an open window, the wind crashing against it. Shaken, she prodded it open a little more. Her daughter...was now gone.

 

“Philip,” she sniffled, her starry eyes beginning to freeze in the Earth's icy breath, “Did Margaret leave her phone?”

 

“I-I don't know, dear,” he replied, “I'm so sorry”

 

“That's okay”. The rage bolted through her system like a thick stroke of lightning; her fists began to tighten intensely. There was no stopping her now...

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa lowered herself down onto the chair in the restaurant beside Jeremy, who had just finished scribbling down what she presumed to be one of his to-do lists onto a piece of scrap paper. He folded it neatly and snuck it into the top pocket of his overcoat.

 

“What's wrong, dear?” he asked, sweeping a kind hand through her silver locks which masked her frown.

 

“We can't find Margaret” she muttered, sinking into her chair in utter defeat.

 

“Do you think it was Nicola?”

 

“Possibly”

 

“Do you know where Nicola is?”

 

“Not a clue,” Theresa replied, “We don't even have Margaret's phone to track Nicola back”

 

“Well, we could track Margaret then”

 

“Alright” she conceded, fumbling her hand around her pocket and lifting out her phone. She obediently pulled up her browser and opened up the phone number tracker. Theresa slowly inserted Margaret's number into the machine, and then retired against the chair, letting the algorithms do their work. And then....a result. It looked like Margaret had just boarded a train...and she was headed for the Scottish borders.

 

* * *

 

 

Maggie rested her head on Nicola's shoulder as their soft hands intertwined. They were now on their way up to Edinburgh on the train. Nicola hoped that by having planned a journey which stops off at a lot of places around Scotland, that Theresa would be very confused when trying to find them.

 

Basically, the duo was set to catch the train from Carlisle to Edinburgh, and then Edinburgh to Aberdeen where they would then catch a bus to Inverness but get off at Keith. And finally, they'd catch a bus from Keith to Tomintoul, where they'd meet up with Leanne and they'd walk home.

 

“Maggie,” she whispered, even though they were alone in the almost empty first class carriage, “Did you turn off your GPS?”

 

“Uh,” she hesitated, hastily snatching her phone from her bag. Irritated, Nicola swiped it up from her grasp, sliding off the back and crushing the SIM card in her fingers.

 

“That should do it”

 

“What the fu-”

 

“Hush now dear,” she instructed, placing a firm finger on her lips to silence her, “I'll get you a new one”. Maggie receded back into her seat as Nicola did the same to her phone.

 

“I've missed you”

 

“I've missed you too”.

 

* * *

 

 

Ruth furiously marched down the halls of the Edinburgh University labs, desperate to find out if her team had come up with anything yet to help her take down whoever had taken her precious wee girl away from her.

 

“Jamie,” she yelled, approaching him with a smirk plastered across her devious face, “What have you managed to get?”. Jamie lifted up what looked like a wee revolver - only it didn't use bullets.

 

“What's 'hat?”

 

“We basically took that strange compound Marshall came up wi' an' diluted it, an' so this gun es gonnae propel a dart wi' the liquid encapsulated in it, into the victim and send them somewhere back in time”

 

“That'll just give them more time to come up with something”

 

“We thought aboot 'hat an' so the serum keeps them alive for a matter o' minutes and then they die from radiation poisoning”

 

“Excellent...”

 

* * *

 

 

It was 10 pm now and Leanne kept a beady eye on outside the window. She hoped that Nicola and Maggie would return soon, but she also knew that Theresa wouldn't go down without a fight. Leanne threw down her pad and pen, ripping off a few pages she'd written on to. She quickly stuffed them down her bra and cloaked her magenta dress in her woolly jacket, heading straight for the door. She slipped into her leather heels, grabbed her handbag, and left for the town centre.

 

Leanne waited patiently by the bus stop, exhaustedly leaning up against it as she waited for her lover and 'daughter' to make their way back home from England. The wind was minimal but the frosty air was beginning to nip at her fingertips, causing Leanne to slip her icy hands into the pockets of her cosy jacket. She sunk into the warmth, resting her eyes as the night slowly began to take her. She obviously didn't see the angry trio which had congregated behind her.

 

“Leanne,” Theresa growled, “Where the hell is my daughter?”. Leanne glanced over her shoulder, carefully examining the situation before she even uttered a sound.

 

“I-I don't know” she stuttered, slowly realising that her lips were dry and beginning to crust. She reached into her bag and took out some cocoa lip balm, spreading it generously across her chapped lips before puckering in Theresa's wrinkled face.

 

“Right boys,” she smirked, “Get her”. And in the blink of an eye, Jeremy and Philip had restrained Leanne...and then bundled her into their car.

 

* * *

 

 

“Thank you!” beamed Nicola at the bus driver as the couple got off in the town centre. They were finally home and safe from the outside world! Well, at least, that's what they thought...

 

“Was Leanne meant to meet us here?” Maggie asked, twirling around on her brown heels.

 

“That's Mum to you,” Nicola replied, playfully ruffling Maggie's messy locks with her warm hand, “and yes, she was”. Nicola sighed, increasingly concerned. Where in the world was Leanne? She was always on time!

 

“She's probably fallen asleep at home, kitten,” concluded Nicola, wrapping a defensive arm around her waist, “Now, come on, let's get back into the warmth”. And so the duo wandered off, hand in hand, down a few pavements and along the side of a road, all the way back home, bundled away in the muddy forest. Nicola switched on the outdoor lamp and fumbled with the keys in her frosty palms, her breath as evident as snow. The welcoming door swung open and Nicola ushered a rather cold Maggie inside before Jack Frost got to her. But before she could shut the door behind her, a familiar, and angry, posh English voice echoed in the breeze.

 

“MARGARET!” Theresa cried, desperate to find her daughter, “IS THAT YOU?”. Nicola tried to slam the door behind her but another figure emerged from the shadows and pinned her up against the wall.

 

“What the hell do you want with Margaret?” scathed the cloaked, Scottish figure who now had a knife to her neck.

 

“Um, eh” she struggled, desperate to get herself out of the corner she backed herself into. Meanwhile, Maggie was hiding, petrified, in the empty drinks cabinet in the living room.

 

Nicola vigorously knead the cloaked figure in the abdomen, causing her to stumble back out of the door. Nicola tried to slam it but Theresa had already heaved it back against the wall, causing it to leave a dent. Her eyes were brimming with fury. Theresa was seething.

 

“Give me back my daughter” Theresa instructed, her eyes twitching furiously.

 

“No”

 

“Give her back, Nicola,” demanded Jeremy, who had to run to catch up with them, “This isn't fair!”. Behind him was Leanne, who was tied up and screaming, struggling to break the bonds which chained her. Leanne shot her starry eyes towards Nicola, begging her to do something...anything.

 

“Nothing's fair in love and war,” she uttered, “and besides, this was Maggie's choice to come back, not yours”. Meanwhile, in the distance, the dark figure was readying her weapon - her weapon of choice being a small dart gun. She fiddled with the darts, inserting them in one by one. She didn't know how effective this would be, but it was worth a try.

 

Maggie stumbled into the hallway to back Nicola up, but it was already too late.

 

“Margaret, come out here, sweetheart” her Mother desperately appealed. Nicola struck out her arm in front of her, forbidding her from leaving. Frustrated tears welled in her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at Maggie.

 

“Please...” she quietly whimpered, “....please don't go...”.

 

The cloaked figure cocked her gun from behind the trio, letting the sound reverberate into the bitter silence.

 

“Silence will fall went the clock strikes twelve,” she muttered devilishly, her dirty smile now illuminated by the bright outdoor lights, “And now we're all back to square one again”. Without a moment of hesitation, the figure began firing shots at the necks of Theresa, Leanne, Jeremy and Philip. Hell-bent on protecting her pretend daughter, Nicola slammed the door in her face and locked it before the figure could even aim the gun towards her. But the cloak had fallen as the door had shut, and the image of the figure had remained in Nicola's eye.

 

“Ruth....” she bleated, “that was...Ruth”.

 

* * *

 

 

The light took Jeremy first, and it took him back to somewhere in 10 Downing Street – and it sounded like someone was a bit frustrated in the other room.

 

“They're going...to kill....Nicola...St-” she repeated to herself, rattled. Eager to see what was going on, Jeremy ambled out of the doorway and over to a deeply horrified Liz Truss.

 

“Who is?” he queried, hands in pockets but his palms clammier than ever.

 

“Jeremy! Oh, nothing. Ya know...normal day in Downing Street” Liz panted, leaning up against an object which she thought was sealed to the corner table, but actually wasn't.

 

“Elizabeth, who is going to kill Nicola Sturgeon?” he repeated, this time more stern than ever.

 

“Oh, no one! It's okay!” she struggled, accidentally knocking over the statue, but stumbling to catch it before it smashed all over the floor, “Everything's fine!”. Liz stumbled desperately up the staircase, her cheeks flushed and as red as the Labour party. But Jeremy already knew exactly what was about to unfold, and he was hell bent on stopping it from taking place.

 

* * *

 

 

Big Ben struck 10 as Corbyn called an emergency meeting with some Labour veterans. They weren't used to being called so abruptly, but there they were.

 

“Comrades, I need your advice”

 

“Oh dear. Have the PLP started backstabbing you again?” questioned Yvette.

 

“No, it's much worse than that”

 

“Then what could it possibly be?”

 

“It seems we may be about to witness a repeat of the Jo Cox scenario if we do not intervene right at this second”. Everyone in the room looked at each other, shocked.

 

“Oh dear,” gasped Yvette, “Not again”

 

“It appears the Conservatives have gotten rather frustrated with a certain Scottish First Minister and they have planned to assassinate her”

 

“They can't do that!” Andy Burnham cried, tears filling his anime eyes.

 

“To make matters worse, Ed Miliband and Owen Smith have gone missing. I fear that they may be a part of this too”. Everyone gasped. There was a frantic knock at the door.

 

“Come in!”. Tim Farron practically fell into the room and landed at Ed Balls' feet. He looked like he had just been dragged through a hedge. Caroline and Natalie followed him. Everyone was extremely confused. Tim stood up and brushed off the Earth from his shirt.

 

“Sorry guys, I just got hit by a bus,” Tim coughed, “Natalie and Caroline saved me, though”

 

“A bus?!” cried Andy as he rushed to aid his injured friend, “Which bus? Where?”

 

“The Brexit Bus”

 

“THE BREXIT BUS?!” everyone in the room yelled in utter disbelief.

 

“I could've sworn the driver was drunk” Caroline sighed.

 

“I'm alright guys, seriously. I just got off the phone with Willie Rennie as Nick Clegg has magically disappeared. Now, he says Ruth Davidson kidnapped him and is off to kill Nicola Sturgeon. What do we do exactly?” asked Tim. Half the room wanted to say 'do you have no party left or something?' but they realised that that was exactly the case...and the reason why he'd brought himself and the Greens to aid in this grand socialist quest.

 

“Have you contacted the police?” inquired McDonnell.

 

“Willie's just called MI5,” said Tim, to the amusement of everyone, “Now we can only just hope and pray that they get there in time”

 

“No,” stated Jeremy, “No”

 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO?!” yelled Ed Balls in disgust.

 

“We must aid the secret services in their mission. The Brexit bus, you say, Tim?”

 

“Yes”

 

“Where were they heading when this happened?”

 

“Well, out of London”

 

“And who was driving?”. Tim looked over the Caroline and Natalie.

 

“Well, I don't want to make assumptions” stated Natalie.

 

“Oh please do”. Natalie carried on.

 

“It looked like Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson were bickering at the wheel. Their driving wasn't even remotely squiggly! Never mind straight!”

 

“Well then,” Jeremy sighed, clicking his knuckles, “I think we have a lead”

 

* * *

 

 

“So this is the Lib Dem battle bus,” introduced Farron, wiping the blood from his face onto his sleeve, “What a beauty”.

 

“Well, come on, team!” Jeremy cheered, ushering them aboard, “Time to kick some Conservative butt!”

 

“But Jeremy!” Yvette cried, “We need to quickly stock up on food and water so we don't have to make pit stops! They'll cost us time!”

 

“You're right, Yvette”. Jeremy turned to his best buddy, John.

 

“Make a list! We're going to Tesco!”

 

“Right, Boss!” obeyed John McDonnell, “Everybody, choose one thing you want to eat on the bus that we can buy at Tesco and put it on the list!”. Everyone shuffled around John's list, everyone except Jeremy and Tim.

 

“Jeremy,” asked Tim “Do you think we'll be able to save her in time?”

 

“Yes, Tim. I think we will”

 

* * *

 

  
The gang clambered out of the Liberal Democrat battle bus and on to the pavement outside Tesco. The chimes of Big Ben striking 11 could be heard all the way here! John McDonnell had his list in hand as the last of them hopped onto the pavement.

 

“We'll look after the bus,” said Tim, who was pointing at both himself and Jeremy.

 

“Alright,” said John, and scurried off with the rest of the clan. And they were now alone.

 

“I bet they're not gonna get enough” snickered Tim.

 

“Or too much!” he replied, “Speaking of which, I should probably go to the ATM just in case”

 

“I spotted it just around the corner,” Tim told Jeremy, pointing at the corner, “Don't be too long!”

 

“I won't!” he yelled as he wandered out of the bus. But even he knew that the last grains of sand in the hourglass were about to give way. His time here was swiftly drawing to a close.

 

Jeremy yelped in pain, clutching desperately at his pounding head as he collapsed against the brick wall and fell to his knees. He couldn't quite believe he'd lasted this long. A familiar man jumped off his bike, resting it against the wall, and sat down next to him. Jeremy was still screaming out in pain.

 

“What's wrong?” he asked himself. Old Jeremy looked up to face old-but-not-as-old-as-him Jeremy, surprised, but profoundly amazed.

 

“Oh, hello,” he said to himself, “fancy seeing you here”. The fairly newer Jeremy was left dumbfounded, shocked, flabbergasted.

 

“I was only here to get some money out for a train fare”

 

“Hey, the train can wait” dying Jeremy told him, reaching for his top pocket and sliding out a piece of neatly folded paper he'd scribbled on earlier. Jeremy's hands were violently shaking as he became the Usain Bolt of dying. The life was draining from his eyes like a flood crashing past the London flood defences. It was all very surreal for the newer, more idiotic Jeremy though, as he prised the note slowly from his dying selves' hand.

 

“Do Theresa proud....” he sighed. And that was his last breath. His heart collapsed in his chest as he slipped away peacefully from this world. And then the light took him in, and he was never to be seen again...

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, the light dumped Leanne back in time. It was a critical moment which Leanne knew all too well about. Nicola had described it to her long ago, but it stuck in her mind like it was a great mission. And now, her time had come.

 

Leanne collapsed onto the floor in a state; her hair had begun to frizz and her dress was seriously crumpled. Nicola, who was sitting at a table directly in front of her, placed down her shot of whisky in utter amazement. Leanne glanced up to face her, greeting her with a smile, but the smile was beginning to fade.

 

“Leanne?”

 

“Nicola!” Leanne exclaimed, lobbing her body towards her and hugging her from the side. She'd really missed her! Leanne hastily propped herself up and planted a long, passionate kiss on her cheek. Nicola, on the other hand, was just beyond flustered.

 

“Oh hello,” Nicola giggled nervously as Leanne tried to snuggle deeply into her like a small child. But in all honesty, Nicola didn't mind. She was just...completely and utterly confused! Nicola wrapped an arm around her, glancing playfully down at her.

 

“And what are you here for?”. Leanne looked up at her cheerfully....and then realised the time. It was 11.57pm. 3 minutes until midnight. 3 minutes until everything changed.

 

“You don't truly know me yet, do you?” mumbled Leanne, bringing her hand up to caress Nicola's soft cheek, “You only know me as a friend...”.

 

“A very good friend at that”. They both chuckled. Leanne adjusted her look to focus on Nicola's tired eyes, which still looked dreamy from her infatuated gaze.

 

“In 3 minutes, Ruth is going to teleport to the front of the bus and shoot you”. Nicola suddenly flashed her eyes down at her, extremely concerned. Her heavy heart sank in her chest and her stomach violently contorted. There was silence for a moment whilst Nicola took that in. 3 minutes until Ruth pulls the trigger. She has 3 minutes left on planet Earth. The atmosphere grew far beyond dismal.

 

“Then why are you here?” breathed Nicola, who was close to tears “To watch me die?”

 

“No” stated Leanne “Not at all”. Leanne straddled Nicola's hips and placed her arms around her.

 

“I'm here to stop this from happening, so you can have a future”

 

“But aren't  _I_  supposed to die? Ruth will shoot me, right? She'll finally get what she wants” crackled Nicola's voice, a tear rushing down her cheek.

 

“No. You'll get to live, my love”. Leanne lifted Nicola's hand to wipe away her tears. Nicola didn't even know why she was crying, but she was! It was now 11.58pm, 2 minutes until the deciding moment.

 

“My-my love?” she sniffled.

 

“Yes,” Leanne assured her “Yes, my love. Because you are!”. Leanne's voice began to break too and very soon they were both in floods of tears. And very soon it was 11.59pm, 60 seconds until that fateful moment.

 

“In the future, we're together. We get married, Nicola! I'm your wife!”

 

“Then why are you here? Why would you want to die? Why don't you stay and live your life with me in the future?”

 

“Because I didn't have a choice!”. 40 seconds remained.

 

“Ruth has a teleport which can not only teleport her to places in the present, but it can also teleport her to places in the past and future. Because she was unsuccessful in the past, she's come back to try again”

 

“But I still live in the future, right? So it didn't work!”

 

“It didn't work for a reason, Nicola”. Leanne's eyes were now waterfalls, and the tears just kept on coming. 25 seconds until her great sacrifice. Leanne pulled out a letter she had written out of her bra and placed it in Nicola's palms.

 

“Take it, and read it when Ruth shoots me, Theresa, Philip and Jeremy at your front door, in the future. It's everything I want to say to you, but can't, because I'll be dead”. 15 seconds remained. Leanne got up from the table.

 

“No!” Nicola shouted, promptly standing up “don't you dare leave me, Leanne Wood! No! Not this time!”. Nicola frantically tried to run towards the love of her life, who was now about to give  _her_  life for her.

 

“NO!” Leanne desperately screamed, abruptly holding her arm out to stop her “STAY!”. 10. 9. 8. Leanne looked up at her for the last time. 7. 6. 5.

 

“And if you ever spare a thought for me...” Leanne finished. 3. 2.

 

“Just always remember that...I love you, my dear”. 0.

 

The first shot pierced through the glass like a chainsaw through a sheet of paper. It bolted towards Leanne's chest and viciously ploughed through it, halting her broken heart's last beat. They were her last words....and that was her last breath. Leanne nonchalantly fell to her knees as the second shot fired. Nicola could see Ruth staring directly at her through the broken pane. The bullet began to bolt through the atmosphere, hurtling towards her fragile, mortal flesh, but it was stopped by two more bolts of light. The bullet laboured through the chests of an aged Theresa May and her husband and, to put the final nail in the coffin, pierced through Leanne's fragile skull, bringing its careless torment to a stand still. The third shot rang, but from the side of the bus from an intelligence officer, shooting dead future Ruth Davidson. A Ruth Davidson which present Nicola never got to know. But Nicola didn't even want to remember these harrowing memories anyway, for if she did she'd put a timer on their present day's lives, and she would never again be able to cherish those special moments with them again. She'd never truly live, especially with Leanne. The final chimes of the church bell rang out across the bustling city of Edinburgh. But Edinburgh had been silenced now, and the city finally laid to rest.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. And Now We're Back To Square One Again...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie discovers who she really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y/F/N - Your Full Name  
> Y/N - Your name

The majestic lights brought their cold, lifeless bodies back to the present day, their dull figures resting peacefully upon the metal gurney. Though they may have only recently been deceased, their bodies told a different story. The shaded tint of their skin gave the impression that a murky thunderstorm had been lurking over them for quite some time, or like their remains were swept out of an ashtray a millennia old. Blotches of deep purple were pooling around the bottom of their figures as they once again became empty vessels of flesh and blood. Life had drained from their eyes and they were now...nothing...

 

Maggie watched on in horror as the lab technician lifted the silver sheet up to reveal the faces of her deceased parents. She couldn't quite believe it. A glistening stream trickled down her pasty cheeks as her insides went in for the jump. The pit in her stomach and the heaviness in her heart weighed her down as they fell and before long Maggie was desperately holding her body upright with the support of the icy doors. Her parents were now gone. Maggie was now alone.

 

“I'm sorry for your loss” the tall woman sighed, the bags around her eyes accentuated by the poor lighting.

 

“It's okay,” replied Maggie, struggling through the lump in her throat, “I'll be fine”. And in that moment, she fell to her knees, weak and defeated. The waterfall which cascaded from her eyes grew heavier and heavier. The flood defence which surrounded her tear ducts was breached as the cavern from deep inside her soul prised itself open, rattling her to the core. Her tight grip on reality had loosened; she had now lost all control.

 

* * *

 

 

“It all makes sense now” the tall woman sighed as she escorted Maggie out of the building.

 

“What makes sense?” she snapped, twisting her neck towards her in an instant.

 

“Your eyes,” she said, “you've been unknowingly under the influence of time itself this entire time”

 

“And what's that got to do with my eyes?”

 

“They're bright and vibrant, and they spiral like a galaxy and are as complex as a universe,” she explained, “don't you know that you are a child of time?”

 

“Right,” Maggie smirked, seemingly unconvinced, “like that could happen”

 

“My dear,” continued a strange man, strolling out of the murky shadows, “she is right, you know”

 

“How?” she questioned further, “I'm not special”

 

“That look in your eyes, and on your face, is one I am familiar with”

 

“What do you mean?” she stumbled, her voice cracking and the oceans once again spilling out of her eyes, almost like her soul knew something she didn't and was reacting in the only way it can.

 

“Are you familiar with the name: Y/F/N?”

 

“No, of course not, why?”

 

“She was torn apart through time itself at the hands of her prom date, Marshall”

 

“Wait, Mars?”

 

“Leaving her family and close friend, Nicola Sturgeon, behind”

 

“N-n....” she stuttered, “oh my God”

 

“What?”

 

“It all makes sense now”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Maggie raced home, her brown satchel flailing behind her and the wind caught in her hair. She made her way past the road and into the forest, and she could see it all so clearly now: the colours were alive. No...everything was alive.

 

She froze in the middle of the path to feel the cool breeze hit her back. It was sensational. Maggie turned to breathe it in, taking the time to feel it hit the back of her throat and fill up her lungs with the highest hope and the brightest dreams. Wasn't nature just fantastic? The chilly wind bit at her fingertips, but Maggie didn't mind, it only went to prove to her that she was alive. She was blessed to even be here. And she was free.

 

Maggie excitedly flung open the door, a flood of joy dashing freely throughout her veins. She skipped into the living room to find Nicola lying solemnly on the couch.

 

“I miss her, Maggie,” she wailed, a single tear streaming down her face, “I wish I could've saved her”. Without hesitation, Maggie threw her coat into the hallway alongside her shoes and endearingly ran to hug her. Nicola pulled her in close to her chest and began to hysterical sob.

 

“I love you!” she wept as she ran a hand through her spiralling locks of ginger nut and gold.

 

“I love you too” Maggie replied, wrapping her arms tighter around her waist and leaving a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone.

 

“I shouldn't be crying” sniffed Nicola as she slumped back to wipe away her tears.

 

“Here,” offered Maggie, dismissing her comment and reaching for a soft tissue to dab her cheeks with, “it's good to cry”. In the corner of her eyes, Maggie could see a small, folded up letter resting attractively upon the oak coffee table. Maggie went to grab it but Nicola snatched it away.

 

“No,” she told her, “this is for me”

 

“Who wrote it?”. Nicola sniffled.

 

“....Leanne”

 

 

_To my dear, Nicola,_

 

_-x-_

 

_If you're reading this, I'm dead as a rock. The life would've drained from my eyes by now, but please, don't you worry about me. I'm safe now, my love. I'll wait for you in the clouds among the angels. But I gave you this letter because I owe you an explanation, and that is what I shall do._

 

_-x-_

 

_You may think that the 4 of us have laid down out lives on this tragic day, but I promise you, we have only just started a new. You have brought us life again, Nicola. And so there is no need to cry, my dear...._

 

_-x-_

 

_Ruth informed me of your loss many years ago. Remember, that girl, Y/N? Well yeah, she died peacefully in your arms. But you already knew that. You were there. But I know where she is. In fact, she's probably sitting right beside you now...._

 

Nicola shifted her starry gaze to Maggie temporarily and then carried on.

 

_Yes, Nicola, it's Maggie._

 

Nicola stopped reading and once again looked down at her 'daughter'. Could it really be her? Her wee girl? The lass she promised to protect all those many years ago? It couldn't be, surely.

 

_She was channelled through time itself, Nicola. It's only logical that she would one day land back here, on your doorstep. And that's what's happening to me, so don't be afraid, not ever. I am everywhere. I am everything. I will come back and find you, just you wait. And if you promise me anything, promise me this: you will look after Maggie and treat her as well. I don't care if you two start dating and get hitched, or just stay close friends. All I want is for you two to be happy. And that is what you shall do._

 

_-x-_

 

_So now, I'll end this on a goodbye - but not the sort of goodbye which tells you I'm gone. No, not at all. The sort which tells you I'm coming back...and it's only a matter of time. Maggie's pregnant after all..._

 

Her words then struck a chord with Nicola. She moved one of her cold hands onto Maggie's abdomen and began to caress it. And then she put the letter down to passionately kiss it, leaving lipstick stains where ever she went. Maggie ran a soft hand through Nicola's mane and sighed.

 

“I love you”

 

“I love you too,” she replied, “and I love our daughter as well”.

 

_-x-_

 

_In the medicine cabinet, I have left a small bottle with a ribbon tied around it. Take it and give it to Maggie. It will bring back the memories time should've forgot. I will bring Y/F/N home._

 

And so Nicola slammed down the letter and scrambled into the bathroom. She rummaged through the cabinet and brought out a small, brown bottle with a red, tartan ribbon wrapped around it, tied elegantly into a bow.

 

_Hold on tight, sweetheart, for this is your ticket home._

 

Over the moon, Nicola flung herself back down onto the sofa and pushed it into Maggie's hands.

 

“Take it, sweetheart,” she blissfully urged, “take it all”. Maggie hauled out the cork from the top and unleashed a sweet, gas-like substance into the air. Savouring every single last drop, Maggie desperately downed the thing, filling herself with the magical solution.

 

_I'll be back before you know it, love. So just you be brave._

 

And in that beautiful moment, their chapped lips met and their souls entwined. It was so tender it brought floods of tears to my eyes. They pricked with furious pain as the fire made its way through my system, devouring me and everything I thought I was. Everything I thought I could be. And I would know, for I was there. In fact, I was held lovingly in the safety of her arms. And that's where I stayed...forever....and always....

 

_So Let Me Be Your Umbrella_

 

_And Together_

 

_When Times Get Dark_

 

_We Can Shelter Each Other From The Rain_

 

_And We'll Harbour Our Hopes and Dreams_

 

_And Anchor Ourselves Through Times Of Great Hardships_

 

_So Let Me Be Your Shield_

 

_Although A Hail of Bullets May Sink Into My Bones_

 

_We'll Still Have Each Other_

 

_Forever and Always_

 

_Until The Clock Strikes Twelve_

 

_And Now We're Back To Square One Again_

 

_**But One Day I Will Return To Your Arms** _

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**I am Y/F/N and I am not afraid.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'But if you remember one thing from the pad of paper, please remember this: There are some very tough times ahead of you. Some very tough times indeed. Please, whatever you do, look after Theresa the best you can. You will be rewarded in the end. But it's my time to go now. To leave this pretty world behind. But our legacy will continue, and you will live to fight another day. Please, I implore you, Jeremy, seize this opportunity with all your might. That is my final request.'

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Let Me Be Your Wall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8806552) by [loindici (almaia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaia/pseuds/loindici)




End file.
